


we've got younger faces than our hearts are letting on

by CarmenOnMonday



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Dele's worried, Drama, Eric's in surgery, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, It's all very emotional, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Sappy, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring Dele and Eric dealing with their new relationship (with cameos from Eric's siblings). -COMPLETEDChapter 5 - After the UCL match with Man City (+ Patrick)Eric's arms hold him tightly in a hug similar to those they shared a million times, but this is different because of the adrenaline that filled Dele’s body before and left an empty space which now needs filling. Eric’s shoulder is warm underneath Dele’s cheek, so he nuzzles into it, takes in the warmth and the smell and the promise that it won’t let him fall down.Like he fell on the pitch, right after the whistle, and there was no one there to notice and no one there to help him up.





	1. Dele visiting Eric in the hospital (+ Daisy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I asked myself, repetitevely, if I really wanted to jump on that bandwagon. The answer was yes. So here we are.
> 
> This story is purely fictional, no harm to anyone's reputation intended.
> 
> I'm still not a native, so you have to forgive me all my mistakes (you can let me know about them so I can improve).  
> Enjoy!

When he finally finds the right door, after frantically running through several corridors, it’s the sight of very familiar blue eyes that greets him. The girl, to whom these eyes belong, gives him a glare fierce enough to make him stop just a step into the waiting room.

“Oh, there you are,” she says with an emotion Dele’s not sure how to interpret. If he didn’t know her, he would think she’s relieved to see him.

 _Her_ meaning Daisy, Eric’s older sister. He suspected it could've been her who sent him the massage from Eric’s phone, so he had the time to brace himself, but still, the sight of her is not one that fills him with peace. Quite the opposite.

It doesn’t matter now anyway. He approaches her in three quick strides.

“How is he? Do you know anything?” he asks, full of worry.

Something in her gaze softens as she notices the state he’s in.

“They took him into surgery, said his appendix hasn't ruptured yet. Thankfully, they caught it in time. He should be okay,” she explains quietly. 

They are not alone in the room. On the chairs by the opposite wall, there is a man with two kids.

“But the surgery...?”

“Yeah, it was inevitable. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, they could have done it earlier, with no risk at all, but of course not, he'd had to try and ignore the pain, the stupid giant baby he is. They said that if had waited a bit more–” She doesn’t finish the sentence, just shakes her head, but Dele gets the picture. He feels his stomach clench painfully at the thought of even more serious consequences. 

Daisy seems clearly pissed at her brother, and Dele gets it, he is too, he won’t let Dier get away with it either. He’d asked so many times if he’s sure it’s just a virus, he could tell something was wrong, but Eric...

Dele can’t help but feel a bit guilty too, for not pushing hard enough, for not packing him into his car and just bringing him to the hospital. He reckons he't the one who deserves Daisy's scolding. 

Normally, he wouldn’t be the one to offer ceasefire, but now, he just sighs with resignation and drops into the chair next to her.

“Sorry,” he whispers, not really sure why, but after the whirlwind of emotions he’s just gone through – the rush of happiness caused by their late win, the surprise when one of the team’s doctors approached him and told him Eric had been rushed into surgery, the fear filling every cell of his body, the helplessness when they said they couldn’t tell him anything more, the spark of hope at seeing the text with hospital’s address and directions to the waiting room – after all that, he’s just done, really. And maybe it is his fault too. He’s not above apologising to Eric’s big sister, especially considering her not exactly friendly feelings towards him, which probably make her blame him even more. It’s okay, he deserves it this time.

She seems surprised at his words, but still gives him her typical no-bullshit face. It’s weird seeing Eric’s eyes looking at him like that, with no softness in them at all. So weird.

“What the hell for?” She’s always so tough, she doesn’t take crap from anyone, and it’s another proof of that.

“For not making him come here earlier, I should’ve–“

“Oh, please. Like he would’ve let you. We all know him, he’s such an idiot when it comes to doctors. He hates hospitals. No one could’ve forced him. He had to make a scene, with an ambulance coming to get him and all that.” Her words are harsh, but there is fear behind them, so obviously present. Even though she’s still Daisy, harsh, straight-to-business Daisy who used to terrify Dele so much, there’s something more human to her now. 

Waiting rooms in hospitals do that to people, Dele thinks. He doesn’t even want to imagine what he must look like. Especially now that he knows how serious it’d all gotten.

“An ambulance? Fuck.” He can’t stop himself from swearing. The father sitting on the other side of gives him a disapproving look. Dele grimaces at that, and tries to calm himself down, but he feels shivers of fear and anger shaking his body. 

Stupid idiot Dier, putting himself in danger, making them all sick with worry. 

Dele needs him to safely survive the surgery, so he can kiss him, then kill him, then bring him back to life with even more kisses.

Daisy doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head once again and brings out her phone. She texts someone furiously; their family, probably. It reminds Dele that even though the situation he's in now is not ideal, awkward silence between them, some bad blood there as always, it’s still so much better than the alternative. Not knowing what’s going on with Eric, not being able to be here for him at all... he would’ve gone crazy. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” he says, swallowing his pride.

She looks up from the phone, and gives him more gentle smile.

“Of course. He would’ve wanted you here,” she says like it’s obvious. And it is, Dele guesses, but before all that, he hadn’t been so sure that Daisy would’ve thought about him in case of an emergency. 

“Still.” It gets even more awkward now, with all this honesty brought up, so he changes the subject, asking questions that won’t let him calm down. “How much longer will it take? Is it bad that he’s still in there? What if something went badly? What if–“

Dele doesn’t even know if the questions he asks are the right ones. He’s not equipped to be here, he feels like a child, terrified and completely oblivious to the world of hospitals and surgeries and waiting rooms. 

Daisy offers him a small calming smile. So she does smile like Eric too, Dele notices. He didn’t know. It’s weird to see that, and somehow heart-warming at the same time.

“It’s okay. They didn’t tell me how long it could take, but they did say not to worry. We should be patient. It’s going to be okay,” she says without any doubt.

The thing is, maybe because of her personality, which made the appearance of her softer side even more pronounced, or maybe because she’s a mother – Eric adores his nieces, he spoils them rotten, so Dele has a soft spot for them too – but her words actually calm him down. He’s immediately hit by a pang of guilt for wishing it was anyone else from the Dier family here before. He would’ve preferred literally anyone – maybe one of Eric’s younger siblings, they like him best, or Steph, who he doesn’t know that much but always considered nice, even his parents, who still intimidate him a bit. But of course it’s Daisy, the only Dier (previously; now she’s a Johnson) living in London, who’d managed to get here quickly after they got notified. Her presence here is not a surprise, but how much more gentle and caring she seems now – that’s unprecedented. 

Dele’s glad Eric has someone like that in his corner. He doesn’t think he could’ve handled all this alone, and Eric deserves all the support and love in the world.

He’d expected that Daisy and him might not even talk at all, that they might just ignore each other until Eric would be out of the surgery, and he took the information she offered in the text as her one and only gesture of good will, but she keeps surprising him, over and over again.

Like now, when she puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from squirming nervously on the chair. He’s not a patient person, not at all. He just wants to finally see through his own eyes that Eric is okay. He won’t settle unless he sees.

“Listen to me.” She makes a pause, forcing him to look up at her. “He’s okay. He’s in the best place he could be now, they’re helping him. He’ll be back to your stupid banter in no time.”

Hopefully. 

Dele gives her a long look. “You know, I didn’t–“ He doesn’t finish, because suddenly, the door open, and in walks a man in scrubs. 

“The family of Eric Dier...?”

They both stand up immediately. It’s only then that Dele’s confidence wavers. He’s not exactly _family_.

Daisy pulls at his hand, making him follow her as she steps closer to the doctor.

“That’s us. I’m his sister. How is he?”

And then, while listening to the doctor’s words, Dele finally feels his body relax. He’s okay. That idiot is really okay.

 

* * *

They let them inside the post-surgery recovery room Eric's in. It takes some time and a lot of convincing from Daisy to make sure that they can both get there, but she uses her no-bullshit approach in such a way that nurses don’t even know what hit them. 

When they step in, and Dele sees Eric for the first time, he gapes. Eric’s connected to all those tubes and monitors, and he’s almost as white as a sheet he lies on. It’s not normal, it’s not okay, so maybe the doctor’s lied, maybe he should’ve...

“Go on,” Daisy pushes him in, makes him sit at Eric’s bedside. She takes the chair on the opposite side. “I swear, one day he’ll kill me with all his bullshit. He’s always been like that, caring for others 24/7, but unable to think of himself for even a minute.”

Oh yeah, that sounds exactly like the dumbass he knows.

Dele carefully observes Eric’s chest, how it’s rising and falling, he focuses on that and on the sound of the heart monitor’s beeping. The steadiness of movement and sound soothes him.

He puts his attention to Eric’s face then; to his beard, making him look like an old man, to his nose, which Dele loves kissing playfully because it makes Eric grumpy, to the hair Eric keeps short because Dele had once told him he liked the feel of them on his fingers. 

Oh, how he longs to put his hands in Eric’s hair now, to touch his skin and make sure it’s warm, to turn it all into stupid fairytale and check if maybe Eric’s just waiting for the true love kiss to wake up... 

Dele catches himself then. It’s not a fairytale, it’s a rough side of real life that made his entire world shake today. He doesn’t want to run away into some imaginary reality; he wants this one to find the right balance again, he wants everything to fall back into its place. 

He wants Eric’s eyes open and looking at him. Eric’s skin warm and rosy from training. Eric’s bitchface aimed at him when he says something stupid again. 

He forgets about Daisy for a second, but then instinctively turns towards her when he feels her measuring look on himself.

He coughs awkwardly, caught in the act. Normally, he’s more cautious around Eric’s family, but today has gone all sort of wrong already, and he just wants to take everything about Eric – as poorly as the lad looks now – in. 

Daisy sighs, like she prepares to say something she doesn’t want to say. She holds one of Eric’s hands in hers – oh, how Dele’s jealous – bites her lip, looks around, sighs again. Then she finally speaks.

“I don’t hate you, you know.”

That’s not what Dele’s expected. He takes his eyes off her, unable to hold the eye contact. He didn’t exactly expect to have this kind of conversation here. 

He doesn’t answer, so Daisy continues.

“I really don’t. It’s just–“

Dele interrupts her. “It’s okay. I know Maria is your best friend.”

Maria, Eric’s ex-girlfriend.

“Maria? You think it’s all about Maria?

 _Duh._ Dele nods sharply, still staring intently at Eric’s lashes.

Daisy lets out a small laugh.

“It’s not. Yeah, she’s my best friend, and consoling her after my little brother broke her heart was all kinds of ironic, but–“

“He didn’t cheat on her. We didn’t... by then.” He feels obligated to make that clear.

“I know. That’s what I’m saying. I actually talk to Eric, you know, he’d told me he was thinking about ending things with Maria even before he did it. I knew why it had to end. It’s okay. Neither of you is to blame here, not you, not Eric. I got mad at him for a while; selfishly, really, just because I hated seeing my friend hurting. Him too, I knew it was hard for him too. It’s all water under the bridge though,” she explains, and Dele can tell she’s honest.

Then there’s only one possible reason for her dislike towards him.

“If it’s all about how he’s not with a girl instead, then–“

“What?!” Now that’s the real, every day Daisy showing, in all her raging galore. “You think I’m mad that you’ve made my brother gay? Who the hell do you take me for?

“I don’t know, I’m just.” It’s really the only thing he could think of. 

“No.” She takes a deep breath and then visibly deflates. “You take me for a homophobe, really?”

Now Dele feels bad. He just can’t seem to find the right words to say, today, it’s like a minefield. She continues to drill him.

“You think I’m mad because my brother has a boyfriend?”

“Oh, I’m not– We’re not. It’s not...” 

He’s not his boyfriend, they just... It’s not all that simple.

“Oh, whatever. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t talk about it yet. It’s clear that you love each other.”

Oh, wow. Trust Daisy to say it just like that.

But it’s true. It really is. Dele can feel it in every cell of his body, and he’s going to say those three words to Eric in the near future, because this whole thing has made him realize things. Eric should know. He needs to know. Dele just wishes he would wake up, so he could tell him as soon as possible.

Daisy doesn’t stop there.

“Didn’t he tell you that I caught him making out with a boy when he was fourteen? I’ve known that he’s bi since then. He says he still has nightmares about me walking in on him and that lad. You should ask him about it, it would make him squirm.” And now she’s just smiling fondly at sleeping Eric. “Also, I love Frank’s girlfriend. She’s awesome.”

“The hell?!”

“Oh yeah, Frank’s bi too. Thought you knew.”

He didn’t. He’s curious if Eric did.

“Anyway, you can see that’s not the problem. I guess I owe you an apology if that’s what I’ve made you think,” Daisy sums up.

Dele’s had enough, he just wants the truth. Seems like all his ideas are just rubbish.

“Then tell me. Why?”

Daisy looks almost ashamed now.

“Listen. We... We’re all quite fucked up, our family. With so many kids at home, we should’ve hated each other, that’s what you would expect, fighting, taunting, you know, all that business. It used to be like that, at the beginning, but then we moved to Portugal – I was thirteen at the time, Eric was seven – and it changed all of us. It pushed us closer together, because we barely knew the language, it was all so new, the city, the culture... At school, we were all we had. So we’ve grown awfully protective of each other.”

It’s her turn to stare at Eric’s sleeping form, and Dele can see it, just like that, all the love she has for him.

“I have four younger siblings, Steph has five – it should’ve been us who’d taken care of the others, right? But Eric is the oldest boy, and he’s closer to the twins and Paddy. We’d finished school much quicker, me and Steph, but he was always there with others, and I guess that’s why he took the role of the oldest brother so seriously.”

She stops for a second to gather her thoughts. Dele listens with interest, so curious about the rest of the story. It’s the first time he hears about Dier’s family from someone other than Eric, and he’s not big in words, he rarely wants to go into details. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll make Dele feel bad about his own childhood. He wouldn’t. Daisy’s story about little Eric makes him warm inside, despite the place they’re in, and the state Eric’s in right now.

“See, that’s his way of living. Taking care of others. I... I’d noticed that a long time ago, and I love it, I love what kind of person he is, but it leaves him vulnerable, you know? Because who’ll take care of him, while he’s busy helping others...?” 

“You.” 

She laughs.

“That wasn’t always so obvious, I’m not even half the person he is when it comes to these things. I’m a lot older than them, I couldn’t exactly connect with them over school or mutual interests, but I knew he would need someone to have his back, so yeah, that’s my role. We’ve got good relationship, you know. He used to come to me a lot, once he’d noticed I’m not going to tell others that he needs help from time to time too.

“But then, we'd grown up, and he moved here, and...” She takes another breath, and finally looks at Dele again. “Eric always says he doesn’t trust people easily. Maybe not, but once he does, he falls quickly, he gives everything he has, and God, does he have a lot to give. You came around, and then you were all that he talked about, but... Forgive me, you don’t make an impression of a very nice person at first. I’d only seen glimpses of you, your public persona I guess, but what I’d seen made me worry that he would get hurt. I wasn’t sure what’s your deal, whether you’d just want a friend, or maybe not even that, because it'd be so easy to take advantage of his good heart, and in your line of work... It’s not safe for him, to be who he is.”

It’s a lot to take. Dele doesn’t know how to respond.

“Then there was this whole thing with Maria, and I met you, already biased I guess, and you were shy around us, intimidated. I looked for any affection from you towards him, but you only pushed him away–“

“It was terrifying.” Dele interrupts her. “Meeting your family. So many chances to mess that up... I kind of froze, yeah. Didn’t want to act inappropriately. Also, at the time, we weren’t even... Us, yet.” He feels the need to explain, because it seems that they’ve all misinterpreted some things.

“Yeah, I jumped to conclusions. I can see it now. I could for a while, really, but chickened out when I thought about maybe making things right with you.” She takes a deep breath. ”It’s obvious that you love him.”

Dele takes in everything about the boy on the bed again, and the words fall naturally from his lips.

“I really do.”

Daisy smiles at him with the same fond look she gave Eric just seconds ago.

“I wanted someone to treat him right, to take care of him like he deserves. I wasn’t sure you could be that person.”

Dele’s not sure too. It keeps him awake at night sometimes.

“I– I don’t know, Daisy. I mean, I’m... I’m a stupid kid, really, I’m not exactly...”

“Oh, shut up.” She gives him her famous glare, with a bit of playfulness in it. He might grow to like it in the future. “That’s not what I mean. Yes, you can be that person. Loving him is the only requirement for the job.”

Her words leave Dele stunned. The situation calls for some kind of concluding gesture now, but he’s not sure what to do. Should he go hug her, or is too early yet? 

Did she really just accept him into their family?

Daisy shakes her head and coughs. “Okay, that’s enough emotional crap for the day.” The mood is broken. ”God, I hope my idiot brother wakes up quickly, sitting here and staring at his ugly face is not exactly fun. He had to go into surgery during the weekend, I could at least get a free day out of it. Bastard.”

There’s a little commotion on the bed, eyelids fluttering, brows frowning. Dele raises up from his chair in alarm.

“Love you too, sis.” He hears, whispered in the weakest voice in the world.

“Oh, bro.” Dele can see Daisy squeezing Eric’s hand. She gets up too, leans down to kiss him on his forehead. “The point stands. You’re an idiot and a bastard for worrying us like that. I thought your boy would faint from all this stress.”

“Not true!” Dele interrupts, but can help leaning in too, once Daisy’s back in her chair, and kissing Eric all over the face; on his cheeks, and nose, and eyelids. He doesn’t care about the audience anymore.

Eric’s face is clammy and he doesn’t smell all that nice, but he’s warm, and awake, and really okay, so Dele doesn’t mind, even a bit.

“Ew, Daisy, you brought Cisco and Clay with you?” Eric asks, in this small voice of his. 

“Shut up. You know exactly who it is, bastard. There’s a conversation to be had about taking your health seriously, and you can’t run away from it now, so just you wait.” For all his pretended anger, Dele just can’t stop running his fingers all over Eric’s cheeks and hair. “Welcome back,” he whispers, in completely different tone, into his ear.

Eric slowly opens his eyes. The pain in them is obvious. He looks disorientated and completely worn-out. 

Dele’s not the only one who notices.

“Okay, lovebirds, I’ll find the nurse and tell her you’re awake. You could probably use some painkillers, right? And it’s time to let mum know she can stop worrying.” Daisy stands up again and pats Eric gently on his shoulder. “Be right back.”

“Thanks,” Eric mumbles after her. 

Even in his confusion, he keeps his eyes solely on Dele, and that’s good, because Dele needs it. He already knows he’ll be clingy for the next few days, because the sight of Eric’s eyes is the only thing that can truly calm his anxiety, and he has a lot of it still buzzing in him. 

“God, Eric. That was awful, really fucking awful. I’m so glad you’re okay, I thought–“ He doesn’t finish, just leans down to kiss him, on his chapped lips this time.

“I do, too, Delboy,” Eric says when Dele pulls back, and it confuses him.

“Wha–“ he starts asking, but shuts up promptly when he sees Eric getting ready to talk again.

“You said to Daisy, you said... I do, too, Del.” 

Oh.

He finally gets what Eric’s trying to say. 

Dele stares at him shocked. He needs a moment to come up with the right words to say.

“You sappy bastard. Don’t think it’s going to save you from the talk,” he jokes, but leans in once again.

When Daisy and the nurse come in, Dele’s back in his chair, one of Eric’s hand in both of his. He sees that the man is struggling to stay awake, that he’s in pain, and hopes to make him feel at least a bit better; he’s relieved to see the nurse arrive because he just can’t take this sight anymore.

She examines Eric quickly, tells them everything is okay, and adjusts the dosage of the morphine. Dele strokes Eric’s knuckles while his eyelids drop again.

“Listen, I think I’m going to go, if you’re okay here. The visiting hours end in twenty minutes anyway, and Tom called to say that Annie's been asking for me, so...” Daisy says, clearly unsure.

“Sure. You should go. I got him,” Dele confirms.

Daisy plays with her bag’s strap nervously. Then she surprises Dele once again when she goes around the bed to stop in front of him. She hugs him tight. 

“I know you do,” she whispers. 

Then, as quickly as she leaned down, she straightens her back, pats Eric on the cheek and makes a beeline to the door.

She opens it, and only then speaks again.

“You know, normally we would go to Portugal to mum and dad’s for Christmas, but with Eric’s recovery, we’ll probably all meet at his. Or mine. I don’t know if you planned to spend holidays with him, but... You should come. We’d love to have you there.”

Dele can feel his heart grow. He smiles at her softly.

“Thank you.”

She waves to him, and then disappears, leaving behind all that warmth in Dele’s body.

“Oh, you Diers...” he whispers, into Eric’s hand, when he leans to plant a kiss there too. 

It seems impossible not to love them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might fit into the [Mercy verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1182350), it might not, I'm not quite sure. We'll see. ;)
> 
> A bit cheesy, I know. I just needed a break from all this serious planning and scheming, so that happened. If you didn't read my previous works, go check them out, that's what I put most of my energy into, this is just a one-time thing.
> 
> (Or is it? I might have left myself a door for if I wanted to write Dier family's Christmas... Let me know if you'd like to read about it.)
> 
> All comments and any kind of feedback appreciated. Tell me what you liked, what you disliked, tell me everything, pleeeease! 
> 
> Apart from here, you can find me on tumblr: [mondaycarmen.tumblr.com](http://www.mondaycarmen.tumblr.com) Come say hi :)


	2. The Christmas Day with the Diers (+ Frank)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house is warm and cosy, exactly how one would expect it to be on the Christmas Day. It’s filled with a delicious smell of homemade food and decorated to look like a set of Christmas film – with holly on the door and lights all over the wood banisters. And it’s loud – Dele can hear multiple voices coming from all around the house. At that, he can feel his anxiety raising again. It’s not exactly his scene. 
> 
> Dele spends the Christmas Day with the Diers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pure fiction. No harm intended, as always.
> 
> It demanded to have a plot. Sorry, folks.

The first challenge Dele faces, in the day packed with challenges, catches him by surprise. 

He knows the code to Eric’s gate. He has keys to the door. Normally, he would just barge into the house like it’s his own, shout some variation of cutesy “honey, I’m home” and go straight to the kitchen to fetch himself a drink.

It’s different today, though, because today he’s a guest. The Diers are visiting Eric for Christmas; Dele knows they are staying at Daisy’s, not to overwhelm still recovering Eric, but they were here yesterday, on the Christmas Eve, and returned today, in the early hours of morning. For now, it’s not just Eric’s house, it’s theirs.

Dele went to the Hickfords’, just like every year, and planned with Eric to join his family celebrations in the afternoon of the Christmas Day. So here he is, in his car, eyeing the intercom. He could just press the right numbers and open the gate on his own, but that would surely feel like interrupting, so he sighs and presses the “call” button instead.

It’s Patrick, the youngest sibling, who answers. 

“Yo, bro, come on in!” Dele hears, and before he can answer, the connection is broken, but the gate starts opening.

He slowly drives to the driveway. Eric’s house is not big, but it’s placed on the outskirts on London, and he has a spacious garden for his dogs to run freely around. Trust that man to choose his household on the basis of dogs’ comfort. Not surprising at all.

Before Dele manages to bring all his bags out – he might have gone a bit crazy during Christmas shopping, trying to find gifts for everyone, but it gave him something to do, and it’s not like he can’t afford to bribe Eric’s family with presents – the door opens, and Patrick walks out.

He’s a spitting image of Eric, to the point when it’s unnerving. He doesn’t sound like him, which is a small blessing to Dele’s mental health – he has much higher voice, and his accent is an even stranger mix of differently pronounced vowels. He lives in Miami, that’s probably to be expected. 

“Hey! What a goal against Arsenal, bro, and then the one against Everton. You’re a legend!” he greets him. They’ve met before, and he’d always treated him just like any mate, without any hidden connotations. He plays football too, at Miami FC, so he’s interested and knowledgeable; it’s easy to chat with him. 

“Thanks.”

They greet with a handshake – a normal one, he doesn’t have any excessive ones agreed with Eric’s family. _Yet._

“Someone went on a shopping spree?” he asks with a laugh.

“It’s Christmas,” Dele says, and doesn’t think about how years ago, he dreamed about being able to spend Christmas this exact way; with big presents for a big family. Even at the Hickfords’, celebrations were always simple, with just Sally, Alan, Harry, Molly and him. Here it’s going to be different, he knows. It’s going to be perfect; he just needs to make sure to fit into that idyllic family picture. 

He’ll make sure not to mess that up, even if he’ll have to bend backwards. First and foremost, for Eric - Dele doesn’t want Eric to regret inviting him; even more, regret being with Dele, and not with some nice Portuguese girl. He’ll be at his best behaviour, because it’s important for their relationship, for Eric himself. Not that he said it out loud, but Dele knows.

Secondly... Because he’s curious about the way Christmas can go when you have so many people around. He honestly can’t wait to be a part of it, even if it’s just for a few hours, even if he’ll be one of the spectators watching it from the background. 

“Come on, come on!” Paddy pushes him inside, jumping from the cold. “I don’t know how can you live here. The weather is terrible.”

“You get used to it.”

It’s easy to say, when you have a scarf, a beanie and a big jacket on. Paddy walked out with nothing but a hoodie on. He’s just a year younger than Dele, and maybe it’s because he looks like a smaller version of Eric, but Dele wants to give him a talk about caring for his health. Seems like recklessness runs in the family.

God, what has Eric turned him into. 

The house is warm and cosy, exactly how one would expect it to be on the Christmas Day. It’s filled with a delicious smell of homemade food and decorated to look like a set of Christmas film – with holly on the door and lights all over the wood banisters. And it’s loud – Dele can hear multiple voices coming from all around the house. At that, he can feel his anxiety raising again. It’s not exactly his scene. 

Before he can chicken out, the long squeal fills the air, and a small form runs into his legs at the full speed. He needs a moment to understand what’s going on, but he manages to catch baby Annie before she can fall on her butt. He instinctively takes her into his arms.

“Oh, hey you.” She beams at him. She’s little, barely a one-year-old, but she looks at him like she recognizes him.

Daisy runs into the corridor after her, relieved to see her safe.

“You found another uncle to bother, Ann?” she jokes, and then judges Dele’s look for a second before she smiles in understanding. “She probably thinks you’re Santa, with all those bags.”

Dele’ll take that. At least the kid is easy to win over.

Daisy comes over and kisses him lightly on the cheek. “It’s good to have you here. Come on.”

She leads them into living room, where some sort of board game takes place. All participants raise their heads at their arrival and several voices greet him. Dele’s not sure where to look, there’s so many Diers everywhere, and still not the one he’s most interested in seeing.

He goes to greet Mr Dier – “call me Jeremy, I told you” – Tom, Daisy’s husband, Eddie, the middle brother, and Steffi, the oldest sister. They’re all smiling and talking through one another. “There you are”s and “how are you, mate”s fill the air. Dele tries to exchange a few words with everybody, but feels his stomach clench painfully – while it’s all perfectly nice, he won’t feel comfortable until he’ll find the host. He hasn’t seen him in a three days; his need to find him seems justified.

On the carpet, next to the fireplace, two other kiddoes are playing with colourful Lego toys. Steffi’s girls, Dele knows. He settles Annie next to them and reaches out for high fives from the girls. 

Daisy pushes him into the kitchen then.

There’s Mark, Steffi’s husband, fixing the food – they exchange some pleasantries. In the dining room, he sees two ladies sitting at the table with the tea cups. The resemblance between them is striking.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Dier,” he says, like a polite boy he is. 

She’s the one Daisy got her sharpness from; she’s kind and welcoming, but there is underlying no-nonsense approach in her eyes. You need to have that to put up with six children, Dele guesses.

“Dele, honey, you’re here! Come on, come on, we’ll get you something to drink,” she says, while getting up from the chair and coming to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. Frank, her companion, just rolls her eyes at that.

“Hey, Frank!” Dele manages to shout, before he’s led back to the kitchen.

“What would you like to drink? Tea? Hot cocoa?” Louise opens kitchen cabinets and searches through them impatiently. “I’m sure he has some-“

Dele bites his lip and goes to the cabinet to the right of the fridge. He opens it and brings out the tea Eric keeps just for him.

“I’ll take that,” he says unsurely. 

It’s a weird experience, seeing all those people in Eric’s house, which he knows like the back of his hand. The house’s become their sanctuary, one of not many safe places, so Dele feels here at home. He’s not sure what his place here is anymore, but any promises he’d made to himself not to show how familiar he’s with this house lose their power when he sees Eric’s mum trying to find her way around. It would be rude not to help, right?

Louise seems surprised, but quickly regains her composure.

“Of course you know the place better than us! Sure, sure. Mark, do you have any water in the kettle?”

Daisy smirks in the back.

Dele’s not sure how much Eric’s family knows. Is he here as a friend? Or as a something more? He can’t help noticing that he’s the only one here who is not a Dier or a Dier’s spouse. That’s interesting. And it brings him to wonder...

“Thanks. Where’s Eric?” He’s greeted everyone there is to greet, he thinks, and it proved useful that he’d already met them all before, because he would’ve surely pissed himself if that was his first time seeing such a crowd, but still, he’s here because of the one man only. He needs him here.

“I sent him for a nap after the breakfast. God knows that boy would just sit with us and pretend it’s all good while struggling with the pain. I can tell when he’s lying, though. He had to listen to his old mother,” Louise explains.

“Oh, you’re not-“ Dele’s interrupted by a snort from Daisy.

“Look at that, already scoring points” she laughs. “He’s in his bedroom. We’re forbidden from entering the first floor.”

“Actually, it’s time for the dinner, I’ll go and...” Louise is interrupted once again.

Daisy coughs, comes to stand next to her mother and looks at her pointedly. Then she nods at Dele.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Dele, be a dear and wake Eric up, will you?” she asks, not at all conspicuously.

“Sure, sure, I’ll be happy to.” Dele’s quick to escape from the kitchen. It’s becoming a bit too much for him already. Just like the last time he’d met the entire Dier family, he’s cautious of his every word and every move – he can’t wait to find Eric and let go, just for a second.

Meeting families is nerve-wracking.

He walks up the stairs, already buzzing with excitement at finally seeing Eric again. The last time they managed to talk in person was on Thursday, when Dele drove him back from the hospital after he was discharged. He couldn’t stay with him long though, only managed to help him settle in the bed and then texted Daisy to let her know Eric’s back and unfortunately alone. Dele had to go to the training, and then they had preparations for Sunday game with Everton, even more extensive then normally, because they got the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off despite the Bournemouth game on the Boxing Day.

So, all in all, Dele’s strived of Eric’s presence. He can’t wait to see him again. 

He steps into the bedroom and stops by the bed, taking the sight in.

It’s so different to the one he still has in his mind, the one of Eric unconscious in the hospital bed, straight after surgery. Now he looks comfortable, soft, warm. He looks like everything good in this world.

Dele slowly lies on the bed next to him. He tries hard not to wake him up yet, happy to just stare at his peaceful face and pink cheeks, but Eric must feel the movement of the bed, because he slowly stretches his arm and tries to cuddle closer to Dele. It would be a good idea, perfect even, if not for the wound on his stomach.

He stops in half-movement, and lets out a painful groan. 

“Shhhhhh, easy, easy.” Dele pushes lightly at his shoulder to get him back into his previous position, on his back. “Don’t need to strain yourself for me.”

Dele arranges himself on his side, head on the arm, and watches Eric slowly open his eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters first, with a grimace on his face, but he quickly regains the rest of his consciousness and turns his face to Dele. “Hi,” he says with the greatest small smile Dele’s ever seen on a person. It’s his favourite. He can’t stop himself from kissing it.

“Hi. You left me to fend for myself downstairs. I could’ve died,” he jokes. 

“You’re a big boy, knew you would survive,” Eric shots back, but he quickly gets serious again. “Everything okay?”

“I think? I arrived ten minutes ago, I don’t think I’ve managed to mess anything up that quickly.” He could’ve, it wouldn’t be the first time, but he genuinely thinks he did okay.

Eric hand comes up from underneath the blanket and finds his. “Come on, it’s not some sort of test. They already love you. I swear, after that Arsenal goal, Patrick was more excited to see you then me.”

Dele grins. “Oh yeah, good times.” He’s still proud about that one. And about the way he handled the bottle hitting his head. 

Eric is still blinking slowly, like he’s not ready to wake up, but Dele’s on a mission here. As much as it breaks his heart to force Eric out of his comfortable bundle of blankets, he doesn’t want to let Louise down.

“The dinner is ready, I was allowed up only because I’m supposed to bring you downstairs.”

Eric makes a face and tries to get even closer to Dele, cuddle into his neck. 

It’s not like Dele’s protesting. This whole ordeal with Dier family Christmas, it’s all just because he wants to be close to Eric, even more now that he’s still weak from the surgery and clearly needs some comfort, and, at the end of the day, he would always choose a nice cuddle with him in the safety of his bedroom. He allows them a few seconds of peace, just breathing in each other’s smell, feeling the warmth. Eric noses his neck and sighs happily, and, well, Dele can relate. This, right here, this is how Christmas should feel like.

Warmth, and peacefulness, and love.

Dele puts his hand into Eric’s short hair and pulls at them lightly, so he can see his face again. They stare into their eyes, Eric’s blue ones looking darker in the deemed lights of his bedroom, and are on their way to close the space between their mouths, Dele’s body already melting at the thought of losing himself in Eric, when the shout from downstairs interrupts them.

“The dinner is served!”

Eric groans and his head hits the bed again.

“Who thought it was a good idea to have them over?” he asks, but Dele knows he’s not serious. Last year, when they all celebrated in Portugal, and Eric could join them only after the Boxing Day game, he was so grumpy Dele had to repetitively jump onto his back during the trainings, just to make him forget for a second. 

“Come on, they’ll think we-“

Eric’s eyes sparkle happily.

“What? What will they think?” he asks challengingly, while raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, depends on what you told them. Am I here just as a friend? Or... something more?” Dele tries to sound like he’s joking, but it’s a very serious question, and he can’t wait to hear the answer.

“I didn’t tell them anything, they figured it out,” Eric admits, but then lowers his voice, “if I were to tell them though, you would totally be something more.”

Dele can’t stop the smile that creeps into his face. 

“Come on, then, or they’ll think I don’t have any authority here.”

“Of course you don’t, you come into my house, into my bed, interrupt MY rest...”

“Excuse me-“ Dele doesn’t finish, because he finally feels Eric’s lips on his own.

It takes them another ten minutes to arrive in the dining room.

 

* * *

 

Christmas dinner is just absolutely perfect. Dele doesn’t have any other word for it. He’s never witnessed anything like that. The Diers are a happy, energetic bunch, and their conversations and laughter fill the entire room.

Dele’s happy to just lean back and watch it. They include him into their conversations, tell him stories about baby Eric that make a grown-up Eric’s cheeks red, they explain all inside jokes, they try to get to know him. What Dele likes best, though, is just observing them: how even though they talk over each other, they are still able to catch up with all conversations, how quickly they jump from one topic to another, how they know each other, seemingly perfectly, because sometimes they even finish each other sentences. 

It’s like an ideal scene from a Christmas films Dele used to jealously watch as a child, on his old, barely holding together telly. 

What makes it even better, is the way Eric looks at him from time to time, jubilant over having the whole gang, _and Dele_ , here. His hand’s found its place on Dele’s knee under the table, and it never moves, calming the remains of his anxiety away.

It’s so nice, being here, that for a moment Dele lets himself get carried away. The current topic is Eddie’s girlfriend, Kate, who stayed back in Miami, and the Diers drill him about her without any mercy. Eric doesn’t participate, clearly already a bit uncomfortable from sitting in the same position for the last hour, but he looks at the scene fondly. 

“Yes, Eddie, tell them why she’s not here. Come on,” Frank encourages, clearly knowing something more about that situation.

Dele doesn’t think. He suddenly remembers what Daisy’s told him at the hospital and, without thinking, he cuts in.

“What about you, Frank? How is your girlfriend?” he quips. 

The effect those words have is immediate. 

One wrong move from the outsider, from _Dele_ , and the perfect scene crumbles.

All conversations stop. Just like that, Dele’s confidence vanishes, together with all the warmth from inside his body; the sudden silence rings in Dele’s ears and causes him to break in a cold sweat. Eric’s hold on his leg tightens, but he only has eyes for his sister. And Frank, Frank freezes with a glass of wine on the way to her lips. She looks so terrified, so ambushed, that Dele can feel it in his own body. 

Eddie, Frank’s twin, looks at him with a big, scared eyes, and that’s when Dele knows he screwed up. 

“Fuck,” Daisy lets out.

“Language!” Steffi hisses. Her daughters are on the blanket by the wall. Even they stopped making any noise. 

Tom and Mark both give Dele sympathetic looks. 

In his mind, there’s only one thought: that’s it, you fucked up.

Jeremy and Louise observe their daughter, clearly shocked. Frank slowly puts the glass of the wine on the table. She takes a deep breath, and stares down at her hands. 

“She’s okay. Spends the Christmas with her family in Ohio,” she mutters. “Excuse me.” 

She leaves the room so quickly that no one manages to react in time. They’re all stunned into silence; some because of the revelation, some still surprised that Dele would blurt something like that without thinking, some, namely Dele, burning with embarrassment.

The first to move is Eric, the good big brother Eric, always attuned to his little sister’s needs. He stands up abruptly – or rather, he tries, but he’s too careless, and the sharp movement and the pain in his stomach it causes makes him lose his balance. That’s what makes Dele shake off his shock. Still in a haze, he catches him promptly and helps him get back on the chair. Several voices start talking at the same time, asking Eric if he’s okay. The burning blame Dele felt immediately after seeing the havoc he’s caused now blooms, ignited by the sight of a hurting Eric.

“Girlfriend, huh?” Louise, clearly at loss, breaks the silence. “Eric, baby, stay, I’ll go-“

“No, mum. Let her come to you,” Steffi advises, her authority as an older sibling clear. 

“Jeremy...?” Eric’s mother waits for her husband opinion.

“That’s right. She’ll come to us when she’s ready,” he seems caught by surprise, but not off-put, and that’s where Dele’s hope that he didn’t mess up that badly lies.

He feels the burning need to apologize. Possibly fall onto his knees in front of her, maybe in front of Eric later, and ask for forgiveness. He knew he shouldn’t be allowed here, he knew. 

“Let me-“ His voice is shaking.

“Del.” It’s Eric that interrupts him.

Dele looks at him helplessly. “I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, how to fix what he’s broken. There’s probably no way. How do you make up for forcing somebody to come out to their entire family? 

Eric stands up again, this time slowly. 

“I got this,” he announces. “Come on, come with me,” he adds, softly, to Dele. 

That’s it, Dele thinks. He knew, he could feel it from the beginning that he doesn’t fit into this image of a perfect family. He should’ve know that even his best efforts wouldn’t be enough to change who he is. 

He’s not someone parents want their children to date. He can’t charm their pants off; he doesn’t have any practice with that, but Eric’s family has practice with welcoming new members, and they know, they must know by now, that he’s not an addition to the family they want to have. And he thought getting on Daisy’s good side would be the most difficult! 

Family is the most important thing in Eric’s life, and he just messed with that.

Eric leans on his shoulder, while they walk in the direction Frank’s disappeared, and at first Dele thinks it’s because he’s weak, but he quickly recognizes it for what it truly is – an attempt of comfort for him. 

“Stop thinking.” Eric says, cutting into his inside monologue. “We’ll fix this.”

“I didn’t want to-”

“Of course you didn’t. We all know that. Frank knows that.” He so sure, and so kind, Dele can’t understand how he deserves it. “Finding out like that, though... I didn’t see that coming.”

He’s trying to say it like a joke, but it’s clear that he’s serious, that he didn’t know, and it’s just terrible, how Dele managed to come between them.

They walk into the room with a glass wall showing a perfect view to a garden, where Eric’s dog love to hang. They lie on the carpet, and together with them, cuddled into Clay’s fur, is Frank. She’s not crying, thank God. She is thoughtful, though, and that’s not a sight Dele’s seen before; usually, she’s rather spontaneous and happy, but this... Dele can’t stop thinking about how it’s all. His. Fault.

He stops in the entrance, but Eric goes inside. He can’t lay down next to his sister, so he sits on the couch, and opens his arms. In the next seconds, he has an armful of Frank cuddled into him.

The way they hug, like they’ve done it a million times before, is a reminder to Dele that yes, they probably did, that this is a life Eric had before Dele, and will have after him. It’s easy to forget during the season, when he has Eric all to himself, that he’s not just his. This is another side of Eric, the one Dele hasn’t seen much yet, but the one which shapes him into who he really is. Not Eric Dier, the footballer. Just Eric, a son, a big bro. 

The sight makes Dele’s heart hurt with all the love he feels for him. Also, with all the shame he has for being the cause of Frank’s pain. 

Eric whispers into Frank’s ear furiously. She just nods.

Dele observes it from the entrance, feeling like an intruder. It’s not enjoyable now, it feels rather like there’s a wall between him and the Diers, the wall that will always be here. 

Dele can’t take it anymore, he doesn’t want other people to always clean up his messes. He crouches in front of Frank.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “It’s awful. I’m awful. I would never in my life out anybody against their will, I-“

“How did you even know?” she sounds more confused than angry.

“Me.” The voice from the doorway answers. Daisy. “I told him, I thought you shared it with Eric before, it made sense with.” She gestures towards them.

“Yeah, you know you could’ve told me, right?” Eric asks, worry obvious on his face. 

“I know. It’s just. You never really said anything to anyone, everyone just figured it out, and I didn’t want to make a big deal of it too. I only told Daisy because she visited us in Miami. Eddie’s already delivered the big brother talk to Meg, you don’t have to worry-”

“Frank,” he gives her a warning. Eric, just like Daisy, doesn’t take any crap.

“I know. I should’ve called, but in my defence, you never call yourself. I only knew about you and Dele from the media.”

“Not true!”

“Oh yeah, true. I’ve seen the photos first. You couldn’t be more obvious.” 

Eric’s not distracted by her attempt at changing the subject. “We’re talking about you.”

“You’re not scared of mum’s reaction, right? You know she doesn’t care?” Daisy jumps in.

Frank bites her lip before speaking. Now her face is serious, and her young age clear. “...remember when you all thought my haircut was just a way to get anyone’s attention?”

Eric gives her resigned look.

“Frank. No. No one would’ve thought that about your girlfriend. Come on.”

She sniffles.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to be the cliché youngest daughter who tries extreme ways just to be different from all her siblings.”

“Are you?”

“No! Of course not! Meg is...” She gets such a heart eyes Dele doesn’t have any doubt she loves the girl. “Eric. She’s everything.”

He beams at her.

“Then you have nothing to be ashamed of. You should go talk to mum. She’d love to hear about her.” Eric advises. 

Dele jumps in, once again, with his apologies. If he could, he would fill every second with them, just to make sure Frank knows he didn’t mean to do it to her. “I know what I did is unforgivable, but... I’m really, really sorry. I’ll go, leave you to it. I never meant to destroy your Christmas.”

“Boy. Stop apologising. Yes, it wasn’t ideal, I would prefer to tell them myself, but what’s done is done, I guess, I got to own it now. You didn’t know. At least we’ll clear the air now.”

Daisy reaches her hand towards Frank, and she catches it, kisses Eric on his cheek, and then stands up, allows Daisy to pull her out of the door. 

“Explain things to your boy, bro, don’t let him run away!” she shouts before leaving the room.

Dele raises up from his position on the knees in which he spent the last minutes. He’s afraid to look at Eric, unsure of what to expect – anger? Disappointment...? 

Maria wouldn’t have done it, that’s for sure.

“Del.” This one word, said in Eric’s weak voice, is enough to let him raise his head. He’s not strong enough to deny anything to Eric.

What he sees is a smile, the same small smile Eric gives him every time they’re alone. There’s no irritation here, no resentment, just _care_. Eric opens his arms again, but Dele doesn’t walk into them. He shakes his head.

“No, Eric, I’ll go.”

“Delboy.” One word is enough for Dele to understand what he’s trying to say, but he still doesn’t feel comfortable staying. “Don’t be ridiculous."

Their staring contest is interrupted by the voice from the door. It’s Jeremy, knocking unsurely.

“Boys, I think it’s our cue. We’ll talk with Frank at home, it’ll be okay. Eric, you need your rest, I think it’s enough excitement for a day.”

Now Dele feels even worse; for exhausting Eric and for making his family leave. He can’t stop them, but he can be the first out of the door. 

It’s like Eric’s reading his mind. “Don’t you dare. I know what you’re thinking. You’re staying,” Eric states, leaving no place for argument. 

Dele sighs. He never thought someone would break up with him on Christmas Day, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

 

* * *

 

The Diers leave quickly, like they prepared for it in the meantime. Dele says goodbye to everyone, not really looking anyone into eyes. Some of them try to give him some reassurance, but it’s not effective with the way he closed himself into his shell again.

When they’re gone, Eric carefully sits down on the couch in front of the fireplace, his fatigue obvious in the slow way he moves his limbs, and invites Dele to sit next to him. He goes willingly, wanting to give Eric anything he asks for.

Dele can’t not notice that it should be him, comforting still recovering Eric, not the other way round.

Eric pulls him close, covers him with his blanket, places few small kisses him on his ear and neck. Any other time, it would soothe Dele, but the disappointment he feels, the resignation, it’s just too strong to forget about it, even in those perfect arms, which, for some reason, keep holding him. He doesn’t feel much better. Not only that; now his eyes start to sting.

They sit in silence for a moment – Dele not sure if he knows any other words to express how sorry he is, Eric, seemingly, thinking about something very hard.

“You know we’re not a perfect family, right?” he finally asks. He manages to hit where it hurts the most.

“Of course you are.” At this point, Dele feels empty, and his voice reflects it.

“No, we’re not. There’s no such thing. Every family’s messed up.”

Dele wants to laugh.

“Yeah. Daisy said you’re fucked up because you care about each other too much. I don’t think that’s what makes a family fucked up.”

Eric flinches, aware of how _truly_ damaged Dele’s family was, but he continues his speech with determination.

“But we really are, in our own way. Yeah, over-protectiveness’s one thing. It took me some time to find the balance and not want to kill everyone who would make my little sister sad, but I had to learn it, because it’s life, things happen. You can’t stop them from happening. But also... Did you know last year Patrick fought with dad so badly over his studies that they didn’t talk all Christmas?”

Dele shakes his head. He listens carefully, not even because of the words, but because the huskiness of Eric’s voice encourages him to slowly, very slowly, unwind. It’s dangerous, because it makes his eyes water even more, but he’s done fighting it.

“When Tom first came to meet us, nobody liked him. He seemed so obnoxious, it took us all some time to warm up to him, but we could see Daisy loved him, and that was enough. And Steffi and Frank had some serious argument over the years, something about Steffi being too judgmental over Frank’s choices and her trying to find her own path. That’s a recurring theme, they never really worked it out. Frank’s always been a rebel; I think that’s what stopped her from telling us about Meg.

“It’s not the first time something like that happened. When we’re all together, there’re always some quarrels. There’re things we don’t talk about... There’s too many of us not to have any misunderstandings on the way.”

Dele tries to believe him, he really does, but...

“This time it was all me, though.”

“No, it was Frank’s insecurity, Daisy’s running mouth, and your confusion combined. Frank’s okay, though. And the point is, no family’s perfect.” Eric takes a deep breath. “Just like no relationship is perfect. God knows our isn’t.”

Dele winces at the thought of the long way it took them to finally admit their feelings, and then, to act on them. 

“You’re not an alien here, you don’t have to kill yourself to fit in, you don’t have to weight every word you say. Sometimes, you’ll say something stupid, just like any of us. I... Fuck, Delboy, I’m not good at this emotional stuff. But. I need you to start trusting me when I say you didn’t mess anything up. Your insecurity will eat you up.”

But Eric _is_ good at this stuff, he really is, because Dele realizes he doesn’t feel just guilty anymore. In all his unpleasant feelings, the one that is stronger blossoms - he feels accepted. He feels loved. It’s too much, all at once, and not enough; he wants to drown in Eric’s love, hide in it and never face the world again.

Eric continues, still staring at the fire, but holding Dele tightly in his arms. "I’m sure about you.” He says it like the most obvious truth of the world. “I’m not gonna change my mind." 

_Oh._

“Are you sure about me, too?”

At that, Dele comes undone.

“Yes. Yes. One hundred percent yes,” he whispers into his neck.

“Then that’s it. You’re mine. You’re a part of my family.” There’s a finality in his voice. 

The love Dele feels for him fills every cell of body and warms him up. 

“You can’t run away every time you think you’ve made a mistake, though. That won’t work. I thought we’d learned that already...”

“God, had we.”

It’s Dele’s pre-setting, running away from his problems, removing himself from a situation or escaping into fictional world. He thought he’d found a better coping mechanisms, what with the way they finally managed to communicate with each other, but this, this family thing, it’s what reduces him to his starting point. He’s not used to being around a big family, but he yearns to feel a part of it all the same, and in the end... He keeps forgetting that it’s all about Eric and him. Just about them.

He doesn’t want to escape anymore, not from his comfortable place by Eric’s side.

He slowly turns to Eric. He looks into his eyes and sees only honesty.

“When did you get so smart?” He asks, fondly, trying to calm down from this emotional rollercoaster he just went through. “I’m sorry.” He needs to whisper it, just this one last time.

He can feel Eric smile.

“Stop. We’re good. I spent the Christmas the exact way I wanted. With you, family drama, and dogs. That’s the best way.”

Dele slowly leans in to kiss him, just because he needs to let out all that affection he has for this big man with an enormous heart. And because it’s Christmas, and on Christmas, love is what matters the most.

“So Frank will be okay?”

“She already is.”

“Are you, though?” he asks, worried, when he’s back to being cuddled into Eric’s neck. “How’re you feeling?”

Eric groans.

“And I thought, with all that drama, you would at least finally stop bothering me about my health,” he scuffs.

When Dele lays his hand on Eric’s stomach, above the scar, and slowly massages the tight muscles while feeling the warmth radiating of Eric and his fingers playing with his hair, he thinks that maybe Eric’s right. Maybe the Diers showed him something more valuable than the idealized Christmas fairytale. 

They showed him that life’s never perfect, but it really doesn’t have to be to feel _just right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone. No family and no one is perfect, but we'll all be okay. 
> 
> I'm not sure about this story, but I spent awfully lot of time writing it instead of getting ready for holidays, so here, I'm posting it anyway.
> 
> If you came that far, please make my day and leave a comment behind.  
>   
> As always, here's where you can find me: [mondaycarmen.tumblr.com](http://www.mondaycarmen.tumblr.com) Come say hi :)


	3. In the stands at Spurs vs BVB (+ Eddie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the match is a disaster. Dele gets so involved in watching this clusterfuck that he almost forgets about his mission, but Eric’s always somewhere in the back of his mind, and Dele doesn’t even have to turn to know that he’s fuming. Absolutely fuming. 
> 
> Dele’ll thank his teammates for this later. They were supposed to cheer them up, not...
> 
> “Fuck!” he hears Eric exclaim at another close call from Dortmund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not real at all. Apart from the fact that they were in stands, and they were uncharacteristically angry about it.
> 
> This is not a part of Mercy 'verse. I think. For now.

“Excited for the match? I think we can actually win!” Harry tries to start a conversation from where he sits behind the heel. It’s nice of him, to try, but no one's willing to join his efforts. Dele forces himself to smile, but doesn’t really want to pretend to be excited about watching his teammates face Dortmund from the stands.

Seems like other passengers in the car are as much willing to contribute as him. The awkward silence fills the car again. 

The thing is, Dele doesn’t talk much at all these days. He prefers to stay quiet.

Because, for example, when people ask Dele how he’s feeling (it’s their favourite question these days), he’s honestly at loss. He has no idea what he can say to describe what he’s going through. This season seems to be a never ending series of unfortunate events – recently, he can measure the time by his injuries. They just never stop. 

It’s truly exhausting. It’s one thing to smile and say “I’ll come back stronger” once. It’s another to repeat it every other month, not really believing in it himself (or rather, being scared to believe, because life proves him differently). Maybe it is the price for the successful World Cup, maybe it truly is; in that case, Dele has no right to complain, he knows. Well, he _knew_. He doesn’t know much anymore. He hates it, this fragile state of his life, when every word feels like the wrong one, when every step might be the one that’ll push him straight into regress.

It’s a test of his character, that’s for sure. The thing is, he’s okay when things go to shit with a bang, once and for all. He can start regrouping then, can plan his next steps; he’s driven by a fierce motivation. When it goes on and on though, the motivation burns out, and he falls into dark places. Getting out of them is... Challenging, to say the least. For him, and for everyone around.

So he tried to find a solution. He asked for additional sessions with physios. He changed his diet. He travelled to the freaking Dubai, just to change the environment, purely because he’d honestly try anything to finally break this circle of injuries.

When it all goes wrong for a long time, he gets in over his head, and it’s almost impossible to bring him out of it. Well, it was, until Eric’s injuries happened too. While Dele gets desperate and, as much as it pains him to admit, fragile when he’s facing injuries, Eric goes the opposite route – he’s harsh and frustrated, most of the time angry, irritated by every single inconvenience. 

To Dele’s surprise, even at him. That’s how bad it gets. It seems like a match made in hell, sensitive Dele and pissed Eric, but it’s... it’s _better_ because it gives Dele a purpose, the thing to focus on other than his own bad luck. He hates that Eric’s unable to play too; he absolutely loathes it, but it does give him a chance to take care of him, the same way he usually cares for Dele, and that’s not something to be underestimated.

When Dele got back home from Dubai, he found Eric so far in his shell that he wasn’t able to bring him out of it yet. He swore to change that. The match is the solution, he thinks. He hopes.

He clears his throat and tries to make some effort.

“I honestly think we can make it. Poch seems enthusiastic,” he contributes, wincing in his mind at the awkwardness of this whole conversation. More silence follows.

It’s Harry who’s driving them because Dele can’t push his leg too much, and Eric’s mad at them for making him face the world and prefers to brood in the backseat. There’s Eddie with them too, a Dier family representative sent to check up on his older brother. He’s a nice lad, but a quiet one, and, frankly, Dele’s feeling sorry for him. It’s not easy to connect with Eric nowadays.

It’s just ten more minutes of torture until they’ll arrive at Wembley. It’s going to get better then, Dele tries to convince himself. For sure.

 

 

 

It doesn't. They arrive at the stands and realise they have three tickets in the back row, and one in the front. It takes Dele one glance at Harry and his much telling face to know they shouldn’t sit next to each other with Eric. That’s one of their rules now – they can’t afford to be seen side by side much. There’re too many gossips already. They’ve made a few changes to their behaviour since they started being _them_. It was inevitable.

Dele turns towards Eric. He almost snorts at the way he looks – absolutely cute – sporting the bitch face worse than ever.

“I’ll take the front seat, okay?” he asks, careful to sound natural.

Dele can read Eric emotions even when they’re hidden deep underneath layers of his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. He’s disappointed. Something heavy drops in Dele’s stomach. Eric mumbles something under his breath.

“Sorry?” Dele digs, determined to hear at least a word from him. Anything at all, after almost a day of silence.

“Whatever!” Eric hisses and walks out in the direction of snacks. At least he’s still in the mood for food. It would be truly bad if he didn’t eat anything. 

Dele watches his silhouette getting further and further away from him. He lets out a long sigh.

“...is he often like that?” he hears from behind himself. It’s Eddie, looking at him with big eyes.

“Oh, no. It’s just a bit too much for him these days, you know.”

“He’s such a brat to you.”

He _is_ , but Dele gets it. It’s actually nice to know Eric has a human side too.

“He has the right to act like this. He thought he might at least be on a bench tonight, he trained with them, I can’t even-“

“Yeah, you’re not playing either, and you manage to stay a decent person,” Eddie points out. Even through his need to defend Eric, Dele is able to appreciate Eddie’s good intentions. It’s nice of him that he wants to make sure Eric treats him right; absolutely unnecessary, but nice.

“Don’t judge him too quickly. I don’t mind it if he needs to let it all out this way,” Dele explains honestly. “I just hope he’ll come back to me soon...” he adds, under his breath. 

They’re interrupted by Harry, who comes back from the toilet. He approaches them in quick strides and beams at them.

“What’s up, lads?” he’s so cheerful that it’s clear he’s pretending, but maybe they need someone like that with them, just to break the silence from time to time. 

 

 

 

The first half of the match is a disaster. Dele gets so involved in watching this clusterfuck that he almost forgets about his mission, but Eric’s always somewhere in the back of his mind, and Dele doesn’t even have to turn to know that he’s fuming. Absolutely fuming. 

Dele’ll thank his teammates for this later. They were supposed to cheer them up, not...

“Fuck!” he hears Eric exclaim at another close call from Dortmund. 

Dele can’t help himself. He slowly, slowly leans back, until his back touches Eric’s knee, and tries to sway slowly from left to right in an imitation of a caress. He feels stupid at first, and it’s not easy to make moves small enough not to be noticed by the women sitting next to Dele, but he must be doing something right, because just a few seconds later he can feel Eric’s knee jump a little, and then it starts matching his own swaying. Even in the loud cheering filling the stadium, he can hear Eric’s exhale, and he knows – it’s something. Not much, but something. 

They continue their little game until the first half ends. 

“Shambles! Fucking shambles!” Eric exclaims as soon as the referee whistles the beginning of the break. 

“Bro,” Eddie gives him a warning, looking around at the people surrounding them. He’s right to be concerned. It wouldn’t do any good for Eric to be heard like that.

“What? That’s true! Do they even know how to play fucking foot-“

Dele jumps from his seat.

“Enough! Come on.” Eric gives him a dead stare. ”Don’t even try. Stand. Up. We’re taking a walk.”

“You can’t-“ He seems like he wants to argue.

“Shut up! We’re going.” Dele raises from his seat. On his way out, he tries to send Eddie a comforting smile – it’s probably more of a grimace. Harry looks concerned, but just jumps in with his remarks about Dortmund defence and manages to interest the younger Dier.

Eric looks offended, but he’s actually moving too. He follows Dele without a word, and is soon walking right beside him. It’s not hard to catch up with Dele, considering how slow he’s these days. He can’t risk even one wrong step... He’s aware of it at any time.

Dele gets through the crowd enjoying snacks in the back room and leads them down, to the restricted sector for the stuff. Nobody stops them on the way; they recognize them, that’s for sure, but Dele honestly believes they look so pissed that the stuff wouldn’t dare to bother them. That’s good. God knows how that would end.

He stops in front of the door leading to the old physio room. They don’t use it anymore; it’s a storage room now, one Dele goes to whenever things get too overwhelming. He needs to hide from time to time. The team knows that, but nobody's ever called him on it.

He pushes Eric inside, not even pretending to be careful. He’s actually trying to provoke him. He’ll take every reaction. Any reaction.

“Out with it!” Dele orders, trying hard to sound confident. He doesn’t feel like it, but he fakes it, because that’s the best strategy for now. 

He would prefer to hug Eric, to kiss him, to comfort him, but it would only make Eric push him away. It’s not the way to go now. 

“What?” Eric snaps. He has thunders in his eyes, and Dele would be scared, if not for the fact that he knows, always, no matter what happens, that Eric would never hurt him. Never. Not even when he pushes his buttons like that.

“You wanted to swear at our mates? Go on. Come on. Knock yourself out.” Dele continues. “What, you would play better...? Would you win with Dortmund on your own...?“

“Fuck you!” Eric booms. “Fuck this!”

“Yeah?” Dele prompts. “Come on. Tell me! Do you think you’re better than them?!” He forces himself to keep watching Eric while he starts pacing. He’s angry, but underneath it _hurt_ , and Dele hates seeing him like that, but continues to watch it intently. It’s Dele’s burden to bear.

“I hate this! They’re going to get whipped in the second half by fucking Dortmund, are they for real with this? Do they even remember how to play football? Fucking AMATEURS! And you, you should’ve been there-“

“You should’ve been there too.” Dele interrupts him, trying to remain calm. It only pisses Eric more.

“Hell yes I should! But apparently, we have better players than me, apparently not everyone joined fucking Injury FC, look at that, we borrowed some players from the kindergarten! Even though I CAN actually play now, I’m okay, I could’ve played midfield with Winks, fucking _joke_ -“ Eric chuckles bitterly. He goes on and on, getting more and more agitated, and Dele watches it carefully, looking for signs of him breaking. Not yet, but soon.

“I hate this fucking SEASON! I just want to play, with _you_ , I-“ he suddenly stops. His face is a picture of madness; raw, open. Underneath it all, _scared._

He startles Dele when he approaches him in three steps. He catches him by the shoulders, and it’s the first time he actually touches Dele since he came back from Dubai. Even in the tight atmosphere of the argument, Dele breathes in sharply – he missed him so much it hurt. 

The air between them is electric.

Eric looks like a crazy man; his eyes stormy, his forehead wrinkled, his entire body shaking. He breathes loudly, worked up by his own irritation. He looks straight into Dele’s eyes, and Dele’s heart stops.

“I hate this,” Eric whispers, brokenly, and that’s it. That’s what Dele's pushed for. He’s back. His face falls, loses the hard expression and instead gets desperate. “How did we deserve this...? What if...?“ he asks, and that’s when Dele loses it too.

“God, baby. _Baby._ I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m-“ He stutters while he tries to reach for his face. He caresses Eric’s cheeks covered by the long stubble, his short hair, his nose and eyelids; he tries to touch him everywhere, to take away his helplessness even though he’s full of his own. “Shhhh, it’s okay, we’re okay, I swear, we-“

Dele doesn’t know what he want to say. He doesn’t really have words, but for Eric, he’s willing to look for them; till his last days if he has to.

Instead, Dele brings Eric closer and makes him lean in, tries to engulf his head in his arms; Eric goes willingly, he cuddles into Dele’s neck with the need of comfort so clear it’s almost tangible. Their position is so familiar that it breaks through the desperation which fills Dele’s entire body. He takes a deep breath, the comforting smell of Eric’s shampoo filling his nosetrils.

“I’m here, _I’m here_ , I’m so sorry, so sorry, baby,” he offers, knowing how hard it is for Eric to show anyone his vulnerable side. It’s the first time he revealed it to Dele in such capacity, and as much as Dele believes it was necessary, he feels like an ass for making him break, right in the middle of the match.

Eric forces Dele to take two steps back and lean against the wall.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he mutters into Dele’s neck. He nuzzles it with determination, bites it and then covers in small kisses. He’s acting like a complete mad man. “I hate everything, but I love you, Delboy,” he admits with a disarming honesty in his voice.

Dele whimpers, completely undone by the rollercoaster of emotion they just went through. 

Eric interprets it differently. With a wet sound and a last kiss, he lifts his head from Dele’s neck and peers at him, visibly concerned.

“Your leg. You okay?” he asks. That’s Eric he knows and loves. Dele studies his face, still red from the exertion, his tired but focused now eyes, his dishevelled beard and hair. He looks miserable, but... He’s back.

“I’m good,” Dele tells him. “Come back, come here.” He makes Eric fall back into him, starved for the feeling of his strong body next to his. After the days spent apart, without even phone calls, after the entire day of distance, after all negative emotions in which they both drowned... 

It’s exquisite. It’s everything he needs.

Eric must’ve missed this too, because he lets out the sound so primal that Dele would’ve jumped him if they weren’t in the stadium.

Eric hands travel through Dele’s body, slowly warming every part of his body. Dele leans backs and enjoys their closeness; enjoys the tickling of the beard on his neck and cheek, enjoys the caresses on his chest and back. He tries to forget what led them to the place they’re in now and lets Eric cover every place that aches with his care. 

It seems they both need each other to do it for them.

Eric slowly lifts his head again and looks at Dele seriously. He’s calmer now, open, at the moment free from his demons. He’s ashamed of his behaviour too, that much is clear. Dele expects an apology, but instead, Eric slowly leans in, and finally, finally their lips meet in a kiss fierce as their first one, fuelled by emotions which consume both of them. All their exhaustion, anger and desperation, and all their love and care – they share it and sort through it together.

It’s like a first breath after breaking the freezing cold water. It’s like a first step on a stable ground after the terrifying ride on a shabby ferris wheel. It’s like they are falling into pieces, both of them at the same time, and neither of them is able to put himself together, but is, in fact, able to keep the other one from losing some part of his identity.

Eric’s lips on Dele’s feel like a promise that in the end, they’ll both be okay. That in times of need, they can be each other’s pillars. Dele needed it desperately; in his focus on Eric, he didn’t even realise it.

When they break the kiss, both a bit breathless, Dele lays his forehead on Eric’s and wishes for this feeling to stay with them for longer. God knows they’ll both need it in the days to come.

“I’m sorry,” Eric whispers, solemn. He seems so disappointed in himself that it breaks Dele’s heart even further.

“It’s okay,” he answers quietly too. It would feel wrong to break the atmpsphere now. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“So I can take my anger out on you? No, Del, no,” Eric begs. “Never.”

“So you can let it all out. I’m always here to listen,” Dele explains. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

Eric lets out humourless laugh. “I’m not. Today’s a proof.”

“It’s okay, I swear. _I love you_ , it’s okay.” That’s how much Dele can offer. He hopes it’s enough.

Eric slowly detangles himself from Dele and takes a step back. It’s good that at least he’s strong enough to do it.

“We should go back to watching this shit show,” he admits, but then catches himself and shakes his head. “I don’t think that way about out teammates. You know, right?”

“Well, they are playing shitty today, can’t argue with that,” Dele jokes. “I know. I wish we could be there too.”

“I wish we could at least sit next to each other.”

It catches Dele by surprise.

“Really? I thought-“

“Of course. It kills me that we can’t even share the space. If we were on the pitch, I could hug you or kiss you, and no one would look twice, but here... It’s another thing I hate,” he admits bitterly.

“Just wait until we get home, just...” Dele’s already thinking of all the things he will do to Eric. He can make him come undone in another ways, too.

“We’ll have to get rid of Eddie,” Eric notes.

“Oh, by the way. You need to talk to him. He thinks you’re abusive.”

“What?!” 

The fear on Eric’s face looks almost comical.

“Kidding, kidding. He was concerned though, that you act like that. He asked if you treat me right.”

“Seriously?” Eric looks shocked. “That’s... Wow. I’m proud. I told you they love you.”

“You were acting like a right brat, I gotta admit it, so I’m not surprised he reacted like that.”

Eric looks down again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He leans in to give Dele one more small kiss as an apology. He’s honestly embarrassed with himself. “I’ll talk to him and send him to Daisy’s.”

“Perfect.” Dele checks his clothes and decides that his coat will cover their dishevelled state. “Come on, time to die.”

“You now, actually I think...”

 

 

 

When they get back to the stands, Harry and Eddie are already there. There’s still a few minutes left of the break. Eric approaches his brother quickly and tells him something into his ear. Eddie considers him for a second, but then nods. It’s a short conversation, but one full of meaning, because when Eric disappears in the direction of toilets, Eddie turn towards Dele and grins at him.

“All good, now?” he asks.

“Yeah. I got some tricks up my sleeve,” Dele jokes. 

Eddie makes a face. “It’s my brother! Disgusting.”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

Harry observes the whole scene with interest; Dele sees him doing that sometimes, and catches flashes of pride in his eyes from time to time. Like he’s proud that Dele found his place in this world, that he found even more family members. Good old Harry.

“Seriously though... I’ve never seen him like that,” Eddie admits.

“Yeah, me too. Too busy taking care of others to show he’s struggling, right? He had to break at some point.”

“In front of you.”

Dele flushes at that. He’s irrationally proud of it.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” That’s Eddie’s entire comment. He’s clearly impressed. “Welcome to the family, mate.”

Dele doesn’t manage to answer because that’s when Eric comes back.

“Stop gossiping about me. Time to win this match,” he announces, without much conviction, but without the air of irritation following him either. He’s not fully himself yet, but he’ll be, with time and Dele’s kisses.

“Oh really? Someone changed their tune,” Harry jumps in. Eric flips him off. 

Everything’s good in the world.

There’s Eric’s knee caressing Dele’s back through entire second half. There’s a lot of celebrating and happiness too, and there’s a light in the tunnel they can head towards.

They do make Eddie sleep at Daisy’s, afterwards. They need the house to themselves, so they can undo and put each other back together, over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this one. I hope it shows. But no more fics from me in, like, next ten milion years. (I say that, but we all know how it'll end...) 
> 
> I know you can't leave kudos if you left one already, but maybe... Maybe you could leave a small comment behind? Even a word or two? Just to feed my inner attention whore... Give feedback, make the sick author happier. :D
> 
> And here's my tumblr: [mondaycarmen.tumblr.com](http://www.mondaycarmen.tumblr.com) Come shout at me, I love it!


	4. Eric has tonsillitis (+ Stephanie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph tries to remain quiet, unable to decide what should be her next step; she reckons leaving unnoticed and pretending she didn’t see anything would probably be a decent thing to do. It’s not her business after all.
> 
> Before she can turn around though, the words Dele’s mumbling finally reach her ears.
> 
> “…it’s okay. Just a dream, I swear. I’m here. Shhhh.” He’s clearly putting an effort to remain calm, but it’s not enough to cover the desperation in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not real at all. I never meant to pry into anyone's privacy too much. The characters here are only that - _the characters_. Sorry for using real life names of siblings, I probably shouldn't, eh.
> 
> This one isn't from Dele's perspective. It seemed right.

The house is eerily quiet when Stephanie arrives. It’s only eight in the evening, but all windows are dark, and when Steph steps into the hallway, after slowly opening the door with the spare keys, it’s clear no one is there; at least no one awake. There’s not a sound in the entire house other than those coming from her. She slowly takes off her shoes and coat, leaves the bags by the door and lights up her phone to be able to see the stairs.

She expected exactly that: exhausted by illness Eric sleeping in his bed, stubbornly alone and without much help, the house cold, dark, unwelcoming. She couldn’t stop her maternal instinct blasting like a police siren as soon as she heard (from Daisy, currently staying in Miami, who heard from their mum) that Eric’s feeling poorly again. She knew he wouldn’t let anyone help him, and while she managed to stay away in previous cases of his injuries, depending on Daisy who was closer to Eric (in both senses) to help him through it all, this one is the last straw. Lily had tonsillitis just a few months ago; it’s a tough disease to face, one that drives a person up the wall with the pain and frustration. It would feel bad to stay away, when Eric clearly needs someone to make sure he stays in bed and doesn’t push himself into too quick recovery followed by another injury. He can’t be trusted with that.

Eric will get mad that she came here to “coddle” him, that’s to be expected, but Stephanie is used to being a spoilsport; he can be mad all he wants, once he’s strong enough to hold grudges, once he had some actual food, he drank enough water and he slept off his exhaustion in the fresh bed sheets. 

She’ll gladly take his rage. That’s what older sisters are for.

Eric’s bedroom is on the first floor; it’s the room furthest away from the stairs. Stephanie has been to the house numerous times, she even stayed here alone, on various occasions when Eric had to leave with the team for longer periods or when he travelled to Portugal, so she knows her way around and doesn’t hesitate; she crosses the hall with confidence, conscious only of the sounds she’s making. She doesn’t want to wake him up yet, there’s still reheating to do before she can offer him a homemade meal, but first, she needs to check up on him and maybe take some embarrassing photo to send to their family chat (just to have a laugh; not to calm remaining Diers who keep nudging her about Eric’s state these last weeks, not at all).

The door to the bedroom is half-open, enough so that she can take a look inside and have a perfect view of the bed. If she weren’t already standing still, what she sees would’ve made her abruptly stop.

It’s hard, at first, to distinguish the details in the dim light of one small night lamp, but Steph immediately recognizes two silhouettes on the bed. They aren’t asleep, after all, that’s Steph’s first guess when she notices small movements they make. When her eyes get used to the light, she’s once again proven wrong. Only one of them isn’t asleep - Dele, who’s leaning on the wall behind the bed. He’s not covered by the duvet and looks like he only meant to lie down for a second before he got stuck underneath a heavy body. It’s clear that Dele is awake because he’s watching the man who is lying on his chest with worry, completely tuned in to him, caressing his back with one hand and keeping another in his hair. Dele’s murmuring something too, some soft words Steph can’t decode at first through her shock. 

Because the man in question is Steph’s little brother; the one she has never, not once in their life, not even when he was a kid, seen so vulnerable.

He’s moving too, and that’s why at first Steph thinks he’s awake, but it gets clear that he must be having fever dreams; he’s asleep but restless at the same time, his body twitching and trembling under Dele’s fingers. He kicks around and hits Dele repetitively into his shin, but the boy seems unaware of it – or maybe just decides to ignore it – and keeps focusing on Eric.

Steph’s eyes go wide. This is _not_ what she’s been expecting, after all.

It feels wrong, to keep staring at the scene, but she can’t make herself look away. She’s honestly at loss; this should look unnatural, what with Eric always ( _always_ ) being the rock, never letting anyone take care of him, neither their parents, nor Steph or Daisy or any of the youngsters. Not even Daniela or Maria. What with him looking like a jock, so much bulkier than Dele, with a buzzcut and a long beard which made appearance somewhere around the same time Eric and Dele got closer. She wonders – does it make her homophobic to assume it would be him holding Dele in his arms, not the other way around? 

But the scene isn’t unnatural at all; it’s absolutely disarming instead.

Here he is, a twenty-five year old, so vulnerable, so open, held together by the boy even younger than him. 

Cared for. Loved. It's so obvious.

Stephanie has a hard time believing what she sees. She’s honestly stopped in her tracks, shocked but only in a positive way – through the years, whenever she tried to talk to Eric, whenever she hoped he would open up a bit, maybe asked for advice from time to time, listened to her when she tried to tell him what he needs might not be the girl he doesn’t have a problem with not seeing much, the girl he holds onto so tightly as if he is scared of letting go and starting over... All these times, she just wanted him to have someone he could talk to. Someone we would trust. 

She didn’t want to push him into being vulnerable in front of her when he clearly didn’t want to (that’s what Daisy is for), and she just hoped that one day, he would choose to open up to someone special.

It seems he found that person after all.

It’s a big revelation.

Steph tries to remain quiet, unable to decide what should be her next step; she reckons it would be a decent thing to do to just leave unnoticed and pretend she didn’t see anything. It’s not her business. 

Before she can turn around though, the words Dele’s mumbling finally reach her ears.

“...it’s okay. Just a dream, I swear. I’m here. Shhhh.” He’s clearly putting an effort to remain calm, but it’s not enough to cover the desperation in his voice.

Eric keeps struggling, and it’s the sounds that come from him that send a pang of hurt through her heart and make Steph breathe in sharply. 

Eric unconsciously lets out groans, at times even wails, and it’s obvious that every sound that comes out of his mouth adds to the burning in his throat. With his tonsils flared up from the illness, speaking must be hell. Steph guesses that’s why Dele’s so set on calming him down. She can feel phantom pain in her own throat. Dele seems like he’s hurting too.

She glances up to the ceiling to stop the uncomfortable feeling of her eyes watering, embarrassed by her reaction to something so simple. It’s not the first time Eric’s hurting and Dele’s there for him; it can’t be, it’s just that Steph has never seen it, never thought what their close relationship actually entails, never realised that it doesn’t only mean that the person for whom Eric cares changed; that in result, Eric might get someone always having his back in a way only your significant other can. Now that she thinks about it, not taking into consideration that Dele is probably here was just plain stupid of her.

She glances back at the pair on the bed and the intimacy of what she sees still somehow surprises her; a sharp exhale escapes her mouth before she can stop herself.

At that, Dele startles. He almost jumps from underneath Eric. His eyes are wide and alarmed, staring at her petrified. He seems one breath away from screaming.

“Wha-“ he starts, but Steph quickly raises her hands in a gesture of surrender and steps into the room so he can see it’s her.

“Just me!” she whispers theatrically.

It doesn’t help much, he’s still terrified, Stephanie can tell. She puts one finger on her lips and directs all her efforts into a desperate face expression, in her mind begging Dele to stay quiet for Eric’s sake. She gestures to the hallway behind her, hoping he’ll understand what she’s trying to communicate – that’s she’ll go downstairs and wait there. 

He’s still dishevelled, probably shaken up by the thought of some creep watching them – _good job there, Steph,_ she congratulates herself – but he nods and slowly restarts his attempts at comforting Eric; Eric, who’s still unaware of everything going on around him, but also with time, getting more sated. 

Stephanie turns around and leaves the room before Dele notices the burning red colour of her cheeks. 

 

 

* * *

 

Dele joins her in the kitchen a few minutes later. He walks in slowly, clearly anxious. He keeps fidgeting and playing with the hem of his shirt. 

It’s remarkable, how different he is - in front of her, basically a stranger, carrying the weight of his embarrassment - than he was just moments ago, in the quietness of Eric’s (their?) bedroom.

Steph’s not blind, she has already noticed all the details she missed at first – two pairs of shoes by the door, another coat on the hanger, two sets of dirty plates.

“Hi,” he says, still quietly. “I didn’t know you had spare keys too,” he admits, while taking the seat in front of her.

“Oh, no, it’s the same ones. Daisy left them with me when she went away with Eddie,” Steph rushes to explain. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you’re here, I wouldn’t barge into the house like that.”

Dele shakes his head nervously.

“No, I get it, it’s Eric’s house, you have a right-“

It’s ridiculous, to keep apologizing to one another like that when she’s the one interrupting their peace. Stephanie decides to call quits on it.

“Still, I shouldn’t scare you. Sorry. Won’t do that anymore.” Dele studies her for a second then nods. “How is he?”

Dele grimaces.

“His throat is killing him and he has a big fever. He got sleeping pills so he would finally rest, but I don’t think they’re working properly. He has nightmares and won’t calm down but won’t wake up either.” Dele seems as exhausted as the boy he’s describing. “Have you heard he refused to admit there’s something wrong with him?

Steph’s incredulous look is enough of an answer.

“Yeah. He hasn’t said anything... He isn’t very talkative in the morning, so I didn’t notice his scratchy voice. I thought he was just pissed about something and was giving me a silent treatment,” Dele continues, with a self-deprecating edge in his voice. “Your mum called him in the afternoon, he answered when they had a break in training, and she noticed how terrible he sounds. Told him off, too, but he still wouldn’t tell coaches. I got a text from Daisy when I finished my rehab session, and I went to check on him only to find him feverish and unable to speak, but still trying to keep up with exercises.”

“Sounds like him.”

“God, I swear, he’ll be the death of me,” Dele states, intending to be funny, but the worry etched into his face tells another story.

“I got the text from Daisy too, that’s why I’m here,” Stephanie explains. “I honestly expected him to be alone and still pretending that he’s okay, so I came to feed him and put him into bed.”

Dele smiles. “He would’ve hated that.”

“I know! Big sister privileges, though, he has to listen to me.” 

“Same. Boyfriend privileges,” Dele jumps in, clearly surprised by his own honesty.

They exchange grins.

Steph’s impressed. It seems serious, this relationship they built here. She just hopes nothing will manage to get in-between them; they will have to face a lot of bullshit to keep this thing between them working. Their club. Their teammates. The public. If they were to ever come out... That’s another story.

From what she can tell, though, they know what they signed up for. They’re ready.

And God knows Daisy will kick the ass of anyone who’ll as much as look weirdly at them. Steph’s not violent, but she might help in the spoken confrontation too, even just because of what she’s seen today. 

The silence that follows feels a bit awkward. Stephanie looks around the kitchen, unsure what to do now that she knows she’s an intruder. Dele’s smile slowly fades and then he stares into his lap, probably still a bit intimidated by her. 

“Would you like some tea?” he asks politely. They slipped into their rightful roles now; he’s the host here.

Stephanie shakes her head. She would’ve loved to get to know him better, but she’s at loss; do they have any common ground at all, apart from caring for one stupid giant footballer? Dele’s nice enough, and has always been; now that she’s seen him with Eric, she can also tell he’s good for him. That’s enough for her. 

She’s not good at breaking the ice, at finding connection with people from different generation, but it’s okay, she doesn’t need to. It's not about them; it's about Eric and Dele.

She suddenly remembers the food she brought with herself.

“I’ve got something for you two!” she exclaims and goes to the hallway to bring the bag. She takes out tupperware with the chicken soup she’s made.

Dele clears him throat.

“Actually-“ he starts, but visibly struggles to finish his thought. Only then Steph notices a big pot on the stove. 

“Oh.” She takes a look inside the pot and sees the same golden colour of the soup she’s brought. “You cooked?”

“Yeah. Sally gave me the recipe.” Dele admits. “Turned out it isn’t that hard...” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Steph’s impressed. “Okay, I can leave for you the main dish then, it’s Eric’s favourite-“

“... _posta mirandesa_?” Dele finishes for her.

It throws her off a bit.

“No...? I cooked roast beef steak.” Steph explains. It’s what she believed was Eric’s favourite dish here in England, but she didn’t really think about Portuguese meals and how they may be an even better choice. “Don’t tell me you cooked _posta mirandesa_ on your own?”

Dele looks bashful. “No. I just ordered it. I wouldn’t make it properly. But it’s awesome you cooked steak! He’ll love it, I’m sure. Just leave it in the fridge. It’s so nice of you, I mean-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t worry. I’m actually glad my help is completely unnecessary here.”

Dele flushes, again, but Steph decides to kindly ignore it and instead opens up the fridge. She puts the dish inside and notices...

“Carrot juice?”

“Eric said months ago that he drank it whenever he was sick as a kid,” Dele mumbles. It’s like he’s getting more and more embarrassed, which is stupid, considering he keeps impressing her. 

She doesn’t mention the bottle of juice she has in her bag. Lily will like it.

She turns around and measures Dele instead. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

Dele’s eyes widen; he seems honestly surprised that she cares. 

“Fine. I’m fine. Just a few weeks in rehab and I’ll be good as new.”

Steph nods with appreciation. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you. It’s like you both have the same shitty luck, you’re attracting trouble.” 

“Can’t go on like this forever, right?” he wonders.

“Can’t. You’ll both pull yourself together, I know it. You’ve got a good support system in place.” That’s as honest about her good intentions as she can be. She’s not able to provide much comfort to him, not when she barely knows him, but she reckons he’ll get the message. “I’ll be going then. Eric has everything he needs.” 

Steph’s words make Dele squirm once again. It’s fun, seeing him so bothered about the simplest things. She might keep daunting him, just for her entertainment. Another big sister privilege.

“Don’t you want to wait until he’s up? You drove that far just to-“

“I drove that far to make sure he’s okay. He is.” _Or at least he will be_ , she adds in her mind. He still has a long way ahead of him. 

Dele walks her out and helps her pack her things into the car. He’s not expecting the hug he gets as a goodbye – Steph counts it as another win in the game of embarrassing him. She needs to recruit Daisy to join as well; it’s going to be fun.

When she drives away, she’s content with what she’s leaving behind. 

It must be the first time in her life when feeling not needed tastes like a win.

 

 

* * *

 

  


_Postscriptum_

  


When Dele tiptoes back into the bedroom, still not fully sure what just happened, and still quite terrified by the fact that someone could walk into their house just like that – he almost had a heart attack when he noticed someone watching them – Eric’s already awake. He’s still flushed from the fever and his eyes are hazed. 

He looks terrible.

Dele’s never loved him more.

As soon as Dele joins him in bed, Eric puts his arms around him and clings to him. It’s like he’s this completely different person, once he allows himself some weakness. Seeing him like that is an honour Dele doesn't underestimate having.

Eric doesn’t try to talk, but the curiosity etched onto his face features is enough to let Dele know he noticed they had guest.

“Stephanie was here, came to check on you,” Dele explains and places a small kiss on Eric’s burning temple.

Even exhausted and barely awake, Eric finds the strength to roll his eyes.

“Hey, she’s just worried. Not unrightfully so. You’re like a big baby with these things.” Dele grumbles.

Eric doesn’t comment, just closes his eyes and slowly rearranges his body to find more comfortable position on Dele’s chest. His head drops heavily into the space between Dele’s shoulder and neck. It’s warm; too warm. He sighs, the wheezing coming from his throat painful. 

Dele doesn’t find it in himself to remain strict. There’ll be time for it later.

He puts his hand into Eric’s hair once again and finds comfort in the way they tickle his fingers. 

“I know.” He whispers. “It’s okay. You’ll get better in no time, I promise.”

He’s not in a position to make such promises, not with the way life keeps fucking them both over. It seems that as soon as they managed to sort out their issues and become a couple despite the whole world being against them, fate decided to test them any other way it could.

Injury after injury, sickness after sickness. Sometimes Dele thinks he’s got it all under control, but then something new comes up, and he’s back in the starting point. 

He’s not a cook. His chicken soup is probably worse than the one prepared by Stephanie, Eric would choose her steak over the one Dele ordered without a blink of his eye, and someone else would’ve probably noticed that Eric’s sick again sooner, but... For some reason, it’s Dele who Eric is holding on to.

So Dele won’t let go of him either.

There’s not much else he can offer, other than an empty promise that they will, in fact, get better, but in the quietness of their bedroom, entangled in each other arms, it doesn’t seem like much of a stretch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote it! I actually wrote it! I almost gave up...  
> Let's face it, we're all Stephanie in a sense, creeping into their house. 
> 
> When I started posting this story, I didn't expect there would be enough content to make it into multichaptered sick!fic. Stop having injuries, boys, please. (Eric's sick again, I'm sick again too, so at least that seems fitting.) Am I repeating myself in these chapters though?
> 
> I would love to hear from you. Every comment, even just a few words long, will light up my world.
> 
> If not here, you can shout at me on tumblr: [mondaycarmen.tumblr.com](http://www.mondaycarmen.tumblr.com)


	5. After the UCL match vs Man City (+ Patrick)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really the last one.
> 
> With a special dedication to the lovely person who stops by in my inbox and shares deledier headcannons with me. TPT Anon, this is all for you! Thank you for all your support and being the inspiration behind this. I hope you don't mind I used some of your theories.
> 
> Buckle up, guys, this one is a rollercoaster ride.

Putting the key into the lock isn’t supposed to be such a hardship, but here Dele is, struggling to choose the right key and aim at the lock, all of this using only one hand.

He glares at the keychain, finally gives up, and instead gathers all the strength that’s left in him to bang on the door. The owner of the house might get grumpy about being woken up so late in the night, but at least he’ll be here, and Dele wants him here, like he has never wanted anything else in the world.

There are steps behind the door, and Dele tries to get himself together, straightens his back and clears his throat. He needs to hold it for just a few more moments before he’ll be able to just let go, exactly like he wanted from the second the match ended. In his head, he’s already falling into the house and its owner’s arms. The door opens and...

“You’re the wrong Dier.” Dele blinks in disorientation. 

His mouth works before he can even consider what he’s saying. His sluggish brain quickly realised that the boy in front of him isn’t Eric – just his younger clone, Patrick – and that’s enough for it to move on and demand Eric. Dele just wants Eric.

“Gee, thanks for a summary of my life. Hello to you, too.” Patrick raises his brow, but he’s already stepping aside to make way for him. Dele staggers into the hallway, his legs slow as if is walking through the water, not allowing him to run into the building and search for the person he wants to see. Patrick follows him, already chatting. “What a match! Legen-“

“Yeah, thanks. Eric, please,” Dele interrupts, his impatience evident in the way his words fall from his lips, bare of any unnecessary politeness. Normally, he would care about being nice to yet another Dier sibling, it was a mission he put so much effort into, but it’s just... Not relevant at the moment. Dele really doesn’t have it in himself to care.

He’s so, so tired; he’s barely standing. His knees scream at him after the exertion of today’s match and then being in one position for far too long, first on the airplane, then in the taxi. His head seem to weight a ton and makes his neck stiff from the effort needed to hold it up for so long.

The only reason why he doesn’t drop on the armchair in the entrance is that if he did, he wouldn’t get up, ever. And he won’t rest, he won’t fully breathe, until he gets what his heart has longed for since the moment the match ended. 

“Someone’s rude on this fine night.” Patrick continues, not off-put. “Oooo-kay, I’ll get the right Dier for you.”

Dele’s desperation must be obvious; it fills every cell of his body and makes him feel like he’s detached from the world. He wants one thing only, and there’s not a thought in his brain that doesn’t involve Eric.

Patrick disappears into the living room, the sound of his “Eric, get your arse here” shout filling the silence of the night. 

Dele’s practically home, he doesn’t need to wait for Eric to welcome him, but he feels incapable of taking even one step more. He forces himself to kick off his trainers, left first and then the right one, and untangles the jacket he’s been bundled into. He wants to drop it unceremoniously on the armchair, but it lands on the floor. It’s the last straw. 

He leans on the wall and hides his face in his hands, closes his eyes to let them rest for a second, and lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should be celebrating with other boys. He should be resting at his own apartment, which is closer to the airport, just like they agreed before he left. He should be calming himself down on his own, like he knows how, instead of coming here looking for comfort, but...

Dele opens his eyes at the sound of claws on the parquet. Clay approaches him excitedly.

“Hi, boy,” Dele whispers to him, his anxiety making way for the fondness at the sight of this ball of fur.

Clay barks a few times and comes closer to smell Dele’s hand, and even in his exhaustion, he doesn’t have heart not to indulge the doggie in some playful scratching. He kneels, slowly, carefully, his knees playing a symphony of cracking, and goes fully into it, trying to give Clay some comfort. 

God, he must be confused and lonely these days. He must miss his old pal.

Dele rests his face in Clay’s fur and feels his throat clench. 

Is he like Clay? So used to having his counterpart by his side that once he’s not there, he just forgets what the happiness is and withers away, not even with a bang but with a whisper? Will he float aimlessly whenever his best friend, boyfriend, lover – whose presence he’s been taking for granted – won’t be by his side? It’s the right order of the world, Cisco and Clay, Eric and Dele, side by side, taking over the world together, but when one isn’t there, what will happen to the other? Dele sees the sadness in Clay’s eyes, hears the absence of the typical joy in his barks, and how slow his moves are, and...

And then he hears a “Dele?” in the voice so familiar he would recognize it in millions of others. He snaps his head up, needing, needing this, this exactly. The sight alone makes him breathe a sigh of relief. There he is, the one person his heart aches for.

Eric looks like a dream in his huge comfy sweats. Dele observes his every feature; eyes that are glinting – from happiness or from celebratory drinks they surely downed with Patrick, Dele doesn’t know – cute wrinkles surrounding them, his big, cuddly chest and arms that look so heavenly, covered only by one of his signature simple t-shirt. His grin, finally – because of course he’s beaming, even if he’s surprised, he always seems pleased to see Dele. 

Dele feels corners of his own mouth lift a bit. 

“Hi,” he breathes out.

Eric’s even wearing mismatched socks. God, Dele loves these socks.

“We’re through, Delboy!” Eric exclaims as he crosses the hallway, seemingly still on a high after the victory. For him, watching it from the safety of his living room, it must have been like an action film concluded by a happy ending.

For Dele, it was rather a horror, with main characters miraculously surviving in the end. But not without sacrifices. 

And Dele hates horrors.

“We are,” Dele chokes out, emotions bubbling just below the surface of his carefully crafted mask. He sees in Eric’s behaviour the same euphoria he rode, just a few hours ago, for a few moments, and it ignites the remains of it he still carries inside, along with all the other feelings he went through – worry, satisfaction, heartbreak, even more worry and fear, elation, disappointment, relief, relief, _relief_. They all rush through his body again, in a flood of cluttered flashbacks, but Dele’s just too tired to fully grasp any of it. Instead, he realises with terror, there are tears slowly filling his eyes. It seems that after all he went through today, all emotions combine together and then pull at his sanity to finally turn into tears burning his eyes.

God. His breath is stuck in his throat while he stares helplessly at Eric. He wishes he could run to him, finally close that gap between them and _let go_. He doesn’t think his legs would hold him for as long as needed to get to him though.

So instead, he raises his arms invitingly, awkwardly holds the ends of sleeves in his fingers. He bites his lip and waits. 

In one second, Eric’s still oceans away; in another, he’s right there, a big, bulky form ready to catch him. He’s right in front of Dele’s eyes, finally at his fingertips.

Dele takes one step and falls, his legs giving up in the end, but he falls into _Eric_ and lands safely in his arms.

Heaven. It’s heaven, finally rediscovered. Or maybe a first gulp of fresh air after holding his breath for far too long. 

“Del? What’s wrong?” Eric whispers.

His arms hold him tightly in a hug similar to those they shared a million times, but this is different because of the adrenaline which filled Dele’s body before and now has left an empty space that needs filling. Eric’s shoulder is warm underneath Dele’s cheek, so he nuzzles into it, takes in the warmth and the smell and the promise that it won’t let him fall down.

Like he fell on the pitch, just after the whistle, and there was no one there to notice and no one there to help him up. 

Dele’s able to do it on his own, but he’s so glad that most of the time, he doesn’t have to. He almost forgot what a struggle that used to be. 

He wants to melt into Eric and never get back to his physical form, so he pretty much does; his limbs go soft, finally released of the responsibility of keeping him up. He’s still cautious of his hand in the cast, lays it safely on Eric’s back, but that’s about it. He’s not aware of any other body part of his.

They stand together, Eric towering above him, holding him steady flushed against his chest, and Dele, hidden from the world outside, and the world inside his head, in the crook of Eric’s neck.

This is what he dreamed about this entire evening.

In fact, this is what he dreamed about these past months. He loved being able to care for Eric, he knew he was needed, and he had to be strong because out of them two, he had comparatively better luck, but now, after all that... He just wants to drown in the comfort of Eric’s arms. 

“’s okay now,” he whispers into the silence.

And it is. 

Eric’s hands travel all around his back leaving behind a pleasant tingling. “Are you drunk? I- Del, it’s clearly-“

But Dele shakes his head against his neck, and it’s enough to make Eric understand. He always understands.

“Okay, then, okay. God, you’re exhausted. Come on, come here, let’s get you in,” he murmurs, with this famous inflection in his accent; his calmness already gives much needed aid to Dele’s nerves. Eric leads him, backwards, because Dele’s still tucked into him and doesn’t want to let go, and Eric doesn’t even bother trying. 

Any other time, Dele would jump on him and make him him carry him, but not now; not with Eric’s fucked up hip.

Great, there are tears filling Dele’s eyes again.

“It sucks,” he mumbles into Eric’s skin.

“Mmm, what?” Maybe Eric just wants to humour him, with these questions to the nonsense Dele’s spitting, but the concern in his voice is real.

Dele tightens his hold of Eric’s waist. “Injuries.”

Eric lets out a long sigh. 

“Bedroom?”

“Too far.” Dele’s aware he sounds like a baby, but can’t – won’t – stop. It’s not as mortifying as he thought it would be. Maybe because all his emotions and feelings and thoughts are mashed up in a unrecognizable dirt pile, and at this point, it’s all quite far away from him.

They walk slowly, Dele letting Eric lead him like some sort of puppet, and he only opens his eyes and takes a look at his surrounding when he hears – and feels on his own cheek – Eric speak.

“Leave us alone for some time, okay?” he asks his brother, who is half sitting, half laying on the couch, a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Your siblings are fucking everywhere,” Dele slurs, his mouth one step ahead of his brain again.

Through the fog, he sees Patrick flip him off, then gather his things from the cluttered table – so they were drinking in celebration after all – and leave the room without any protest.

Eric chuckles good-heartedly while he untangles his arms from around Dele. He lets go of him for a second, just to sit down on the couch, and even these few seconds on his own feel like betrayal, because Dele can’t trust his own body now, he can’t. As soon as he’s out of Eric’s arms, he’s trembling like a leaf.

“So barely awake you have no filter at all? That’s useful to know.” Eric comments in conversational voice, while he pulls him Dele his lap, with a caress encourages him to put his legs on either side of his legs and cuddle into his chest.

“But they aaaare,” Dele starts explaining, the words appearing out of thin air, without going through his mind first. It’s like the life is happening next to him. “Diers are awesome, there should be more of them in the world, but do they have to be here? Always? I’m so tired.” 

He’s not sitting in the best position - his bended knees scream at him and his muscles beg for a break, but he’s where he wanted to be for so long; he’ll be damned before he’ll move. 

Eric hums, and the vibration feels pleasant on Dele’s chest. 

“You’re not making much sense, Del,” he says.

He must notice that Dele’s still shivering; a blanket appears on his back, a proof of Eric’s thoughtfulness, and Dele’s not cold, but he’ll take it, because now they’re completely hidden from the world, buried underneath a warm shield of the blanket. Dele’s keeping his eyes closed, and his brain is already on the merry way to the dreamland, but the quiet slumber he’s in only enhances the experience of being at the receiving end of Eric’s loving care. He carefully arranges the blanket around Dele, strokes his shoulders and neck in the process, slowly massages them to warm them up, puts his fingers through his hair and pulls at them a bit, just to show him he’s here.

Dele feels his soft kisses on his hairline, and the tickle of his beard on his face, just what he likes best.

Then Eric’s buries his hands under the blanket too, and they come back to their rightful place on Dele’s back, carefully slipping under Dele’s shirt and resting on his spine. Skin on skin contact is even better, and a purr escapes Dele’s mouth. 

Maybe he’s already asleep; it’s all too good to be true.

He could just melt into him and forget the world, but then, Eric breaks the silence.

“Del, you said you were okay when we talked.” It’s not an accusation, just a silent plea for the explanation.

The shame sobers Dele up.

It takes him a second to remember how to speak. “...I lied,” his rough voice cuts through the stillness of the night.

“Del.” 

“Or maybe not, I _was_ okay then. At the moment. I was,” he explains into Eric’s neck.

Eric noses his right cheek and ear, making Dele squirm in his lap.

“Talk to me,” he encourages, as always. He doesn’t even have say these words. Dele always wants to talk to him.

There’s a million things he wants to say at the moment; he probably doesn’t even know words meaningful enough to make Eric see how deep into this thing he fell. He could try to explain how Eric’s calming presence is a basis of Dele’s confidence on the pitch, and how anxious he gets without him there – although he surely knows that – and what a torture playing with a cast has been, and that it was like playing with a missing limb, quite literally, but then, playing without _Eric_ made him understand the metaphorical meaning of this expression too. 

He could explain how he wished they talked about his decision before, how he wished he didn’t ignore the warning he saw in Eric’s eyes when he heard Dele had agreed to play. For one broken second back then, Dele thought that maybe Eric’s jealous of him. Because he could play with his hand broken, but Eric couldn’t with a strained hip muscle.

What an idiot he was. Eric cared for him, only wanted to make sure Dele wouldn’t burn out – _will he be cared for as a twenty year old boy and not only as an asset?_ Eric once said in an interview, and then he made it his mission to be the one who takes care of him – but he also understood his need of independence when it comes to football, so he didn’t say anything. Now, after the torture this match has been, Dele gets it.

He could tell him that it’s time to make these decisions together, because he understands now that it wouldn’t be a failure to lean on him. Or he could say those three words they already exchanged, many times – more often because of the worry than happiness, and isn’t that saying something about their season – he could repeat them over and over again and hope it’s enough.

But he blanks for a few seconds, and then his brain lurches, like a car when you stupidly release the clutch forgetting that you put it in a gear, and what slips out of Dele’s lips is:

“I don’t want to be like Clay.” And it sounds desperate, like a prayer, but also like the whimper of unbearable pain.

Eric’s sharp intake of breath is a proof that understands. Probably no one gets it better than him. 

“It was the worst night of my life,” Dele finally says out loud. Maybe he’s dramatic, he lived through some really bad times, but today was another kind of torture, and now that he started talking, he won’t stop until he gets rid of all the anxiety that still clutches his heart.

“Dele,” there’s an alarm in Eric’s tone, like only now he realised how serious this thing is.

“...the best, maybe, too, but the worst for sure... I know you didn’t think I should play. We never talk about these things, but I _knew_ , I could feel your disapproval, I should’ve listened,” Dele rambles in whisper, but the silence carries his voice and makes to echo in his mind.

“No,” Eric jumps in with a dead serious confidence. “It was your decision. I would do the same.”

Dele chuckles bitterly. “I thought I could play with my hand like that, but it was a nightmare. Fucking nightmare.” Eric’s arms around him tighten even more, and he gets even more eager in his attempts at calming Dele down. But now he got worked up again, he’s trembling again, and he just wants to say all this out loud and force it out of his head, so he can stop drowning in it. “I was so scared all the time. The game was intense, every fucking second something could’ve happened, and what if I fucked up my hand for good? Or something else? What if I wouldn’t be able to play at all, ever again?” A few tears, a testament to all the stress he went through, escape his eyes. Only now, when he feels safe and protected, he lets them slip. “I’m so done with injuries, and I couldn’t let anything happen, I had to be careful, I couldn’t- People are saying I played shit and they’re _right_. And then the goals kept happening, and we thought it was over for us again and it wasn’t, but... When the whistle rang, I was only relieved it was over. I- I only wanted the match to end. From the first minutes, I wanted it to _end_.”

And isn’t that his own personal tragedy. 

Even football has failed him.

Eric listens, his heart beating faster and faster still under Dele’s hand, and Dele knows he aches for him too.

When he speaks, his voice is like a balm on a sunburned skin. “Of course you were overwhelmed. It was one hell of a game, but you did your part. You didn’t fail anyone. And it doesn’t mean it’s always going to be like that now, Del-“

Dele can’t let him finish because it’s not the end yet. “But I only wanted you! I wanted you to come round, as always, and give me a pat, or a high five, or fucking smile at me so I would know you’ve got my back. After the whistle, I- I just dropped down and lied there, and I waited for _you_ , I only wished you were there to help me stand up. I only wanted to celebrate with you. Didn’t feel right otherwise.”

He catalogued his emotions and stood up on his own, after all. He joined the celebrations, got drunk on the euphoria of the win, just enough so he wouldn’t feel like an imposter, someone who can’t even appreciate how big of a deal it was. With the remains of his strength, he facetimed Eric and enjoyed watching his happiness, while his own mind got more and more clouded. 

And then the adrenaline left his body again, and he crushed. Hard. 

“It’s okay,” Eric whispers, and the cliché doesn’t sound as one when told in such a sincere way. ”The boys were probably the same. The intensity of the match... Everyone would break. You just need your rest, Del, you’ll be okay. I promise,“ he says, but he worries, it’s evident in his voice. Dele still doesn’t see his face, just drinks in the comfort of his hold instead.

“You don’t get it,” Dele whines.

“Then tell me.”

Oh, he will.

“I miss you so fucking much.”

Eric nuzzles the tip of his head. “I’m right here, Del,” he murmurs.

“On the pitch!” he snaps. “I’m a good fucking player. I am. I know my worth, I never needed anyone else to tell me I’m good enough to be there. But without you, it’s like there’s something missing from the football. I can’t play like that. _I hate it._ I was okay before, and now I’m not, and it’s all your fault,” Dele complains.

Eric flinches so hard Dele can feel the movements even through his own trembles.

“No, fuck! Eric, no.” Dele feels like he’s taking nonsense, but needs to finally get to the point. After these nightmarish months filled with injuries and terrible games, he needs Eric to know. “I love you, that’s the thing, I love you, and I knew that before, I said that to you before, but I never realised-“

Dele conjures all the strength he still has to lift his head and look Eric into eyes. What he wants to say needs to be said to his face.

Which is just centimetres from his own, pale and worried; Eric watches Dele’s features with the intensity which always makes Dele feel like he’s the most important person in the world.

“Football used to be everything to me. No matter what, I always had football. But at some point, football started meaning _you_ , and I didn’t even notice until you weren’t there.“

Eric hand stills on his back and he’s tense, so tense, waiting for the final blow. It won’t come. Dele would never hurt him.

“I missed you so fucking much today. And I don’t depend on people, I don’t, I can’t, I can’t let it mess up my football, football comes first, but you-

“You’re a part of it. There’s no football for me without you. Today was a nightmare. My hand, I- I- couldn’t focus, I couldn’t let go, I got into my head and tried not to injure myself further, and I couldn’t _let go_ , because you weren’t there, and you fucking ground me, you-“

“Baby.” It’s a warning. Or maybe a plea.

“You can’t leave, Eric. You can’t.” 

There it goes. He finally said it.

Eric’s eyes go wide and terrified. “What are you talking about, Del? I know I’ve been injured a lot, but I’m not planning to-“

At this point, Dele’s bawling, streams of tears dropping down his cheeks, his chin. He doesn’t care anymore, all the emotion finally finding a release. Here he is, talking about one of the biggest fears that keeps him up at night. They never talk about it. Maybe it’s not fair to expect this from Eric, maybe he’s a selfish bastard, but... “You can’t leave, and I won’t leave without you, ever, because we went through to semi-finals of Champions League today, and I was happy, I was, I still am!” Dele laughs with self-depreciation. “But this entire time, I only thought about you. I’m not myself without you.”

Never, not even once, did Dele uncover so much of himself to someone. Never. After everything he went through today, it’s the final step. There’s no more game, no more faces, no more masks. This is who Dele is. And this is his future. He doesn’t see it without Eric.

Perhaps it’s time they talked about it.

Once again today, Dele falls.

And as always, without any hesitation, Eric’s there to catch him. He answers without a beat, as if what they talk about was just a routine sweet nothings, but his eyes, sure and strong and loving, tell a different story.

And they’re red all around, a bit wet, just like Dele’s own. They’re both a mess.

“ _Eu amo-te_ ,” he says, solemn. He makes sure to look straight into Dele’s eyes when he says: "I’m never leaving without you. Never. Never...” Every time he says it, it's punctuated by small kiss to Dele’s wet cheeks. The finality in his voice and the emotional whirlwind they went through add to the atmosphere of the moment; it feels like a religious experience, like they’re swearing to love each other until death do them part.

Or not death; a transfer. But there won’t be any hostile transfers to do them part, because they’ll discuss it in advance, plan it together, prepare for it. They won’t leave the other one behind, that’s what they’re promising. Dele's not naive; it's not about never changing the club. They're both great footballers, they'll have opportunities, chances they would be stupid not to take. They might move; separately or together, maybe to different countries, maybe to the opposite sides of the world. They won't be able to play together forever, and Dele will deal with it. Because it's going to happen on their own terms.

What they're saying at the moment is: if it happens, when it happens, I'll come to you. We'll deal with it together. We'll work through it together. Football will end one day, but what we have is for life. No secrets; no decisions made in the darkness of my own mind. No insecurities clouding my judgement. Us, against the world.

And maybe they both felt it was a natural progression of their relationship, maybe they dared to think about it, wish for it, but it feels good to finally say it out loud and be sure they’re both fully in it. Not even football will come between them. 

They will stay together, no matter what. 

Eric swallows, seemingly caught in the moment too, and he needs to calm himself down a bit before he adds: “But you’re a legend on your own. You don’t need anyone. You don’t need me to-“

His compliments are the only ones Dele needs, but this time he shakes his head.

“I do,” he admits. “That’s the thing. I do. But I’m not scared of it anymore. I won’t lash out, I won’t run away. I used to think it’s the worst that could happen. To need. To rely. In the football world? What a stupidity. But I do, Eric, and it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll be okay.” Dele whispers these last words, once again bare of any strength.

Eric’s eyes are shining at him, and he smiles softly through his tears. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says breathlessly. “We will,” he confirms before he leans in, and kisses him fully on the lips, exactly the same way they kissed for the first time. Full of passion, with fire burning through their bodies and devotion making them both aware of that second person’s needs.

They kiss like there’s no tomorrow, but here’s the thing – Dele knows there _is_ a tomorrow for them, a brand new beautiful day they’ll spend as semi-finalists of UCL. 

And even when they won’t be described as such, or even when there won’t be any more games to play, even then – they will always have a tomorrow together.

  
  
  
  


(The next day, they come back to the reality, the late night conversation already feeling like it happened a million years ago, the world looking completely different in the light of morning sun. But the novelty of what they talked about doesn’t die down. 

Dele wakes up on the couch, moved to the vertical position but still entangled in Eric’s arms. A pair or deep blue eyes observe him carefully, and Dele answers with the same, takes in everything about Eric’s face and feels like he’s falling, all over again. It’s a breathtaking view he’s seeing.

They’re both calm, so calm after the storm, blissfully happy now that they know they have a future together.

Dele discovers with a surprise that he’s not embarrassed about opening up, there aren’t any second thoughts troubling him – he knows by now, he finally knows, that there’s no shame in admitting his feelings. No shame in letting himself be known and loved.

They laugh and laugh and laugh, exhilarated by the thought of advancing to the next stage of UCL and by the prospect of Eric finally getting back to training. 

They give even more attention to Clay, hoping that it’s enough to make him feel loved. Maybe, with time, he’ll learn to be on his own.

And Dier siblings _are_ everywhere – this time, it’s still Patrick, welcoming them in the kitchen with a roll of his eyes – but if he finally stops looking at Dele like he’s his fanboy, that’s a win too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who supported me in the process of writing this story. You are the real stars here.
> 
> I always encourage you to share your thoughts with me, but as it truly is the last chapter, please, consider leaving even a small (or long and thorough, yes, please) comment. I'll love you forever!
> 
> I'll be back with more; maybe in the same convention, maybe not. I'll try to focus on Mercy 'verse now. Stay tuned, cause I'm certainly not done yet.
> 
> My tumblr got a new url. Find me [here](http://mondaycarmen.tumblr.com/). My inbox is always open. :)


End file.
